


Zombitalia

by Alurax



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Feels, Gen, Zombies, many character deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 118,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alurax/pseuds/Alurax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The zombie virus is spreading through the world. Let's see how the different nations can handle the on coming danger. Lots of drama, gore, even character deaths, mixed in with small doses of humor. -Not all nations, but most. Rewrites in progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

America lay sprawled across a maroon bean-bag chair in his den. A chair that could easily seat two and a half people. That is if he wasn't taking up most of it. He had fallen asleep somewhere around the sixth film of his movie night. The tape had hit the end of the reel and rewound some time ago. The whirring of the tape steadily grew louder until it finally clicked. The sudden noise caused America's eyes to snap open. He watched hazily as the screen turned over to snow, eyes slowly fading back into sleep.

A sick feeling that had been pressing on him, as he dozed off, had developed into a stomach cramp. America groaned, clutching an arm to it. He flitted back and forth to sleep, hearing a rustling by his head and threw a hand out towards it, pulling the half sleeping pariah into what must have been an uncomfortable position. Hawaii resisted for a bit, but soon settled in to snuggled with his master. America buried his face in the short brown hairs so he didn't have to face the unstable lighting of the snow.

Alaska lay curled up beside the bean-bag, fast asleep. Her ear started twitching with the sounds of soft moaning. The brown and white husky lifted her head to try and pinpoint where the noises were coming from, soon discovering that this strange noise was coming from her master. The arm not around Hawaii still clamped firmly around his stomach. Sniffing around his head, she licked America's face, ruffing quietly. America rolled onto his back, dragging his hand up to rub his tired eyes. Even though he never liked to be woken up, America smiled warmly to his dog, scratching her ear. "Hey, Girl." Getting sick of being pestered, Hawaii gave a small bark, and wandered to go lay on the couch.

"Yea, I know." America finished rolling off the bean-bag chair, catching himself on his hands and knees, before pushing up to his feet. At least he would have, if he hadn't been tired. As it stands, America found it quite difficult to get up, since he was trying to walk at the same time, and stumbled.

Alaska pushed against his back, assisting him to his feet, and barked in a way that could almost be misconstrued as a laugh. "Quiet you." America laughed, yawning wide. "Come on. Let's go to bed." Alaska yipped, and trotted ahead, towards his room. As he started after her, America heard Hawaii bark. He glanced over, stretching his arms over his head. "What's with you?" Hawaii was propped onto the back of the couch, barking back at him, then turned his attention out the window. America sighed, scratching his head, and yawned again. "Can it wait till morning?" Hawaii didn't like that answer. He ruffed in scolding, to his master, and jumped off the couch. The brown pup bit at the hem of America's pants, pulling him along. America conceited, starting over. "Ok, ok, I'm going." Hawaii butted his head against the back of America's legs, to make sure he was truly going, then ran back to the couch. He jumped up against the back, again, and barked at America, until he looked out the window. His eyes looked around at the street, to see people were running around. This wasn't terribly strange, for this time of night, but an uneasy sickness settle in on him again. "What?"

Suddenly, yells started to echo from the streets below. He set Hawaii down and ran towards the window, when a loud frantic banging came from the front door.

"MR. AMERICA! MR. AMERICA!" What sounded like at least two young boys were yelling in panic. "HELP US!"

"OPEN THE DOOR!"

America sprinted down the stairs towards the front door. Leaving Hawaii to bark after him. It had to be pretty late. What could possibly be going on? What was this fear, settling in around him?

"PLEASE, MR. AMERICA! THERE'S MONSTERS OUT HERE!"

Monsters? With this new incentive America leaped over the banister, and crossed to the door in two strides, wrenching it open. Two boys, about twelve years old, came rushing in and threw their arms around America's waist. One of them was holding onto a little girl, who was bleeding badly around her shoulder.

America tried to see what kind of monsters were attacking his citizens, but could only make out shadows running through the panicked streets before he closed the door and locked it.

The two boys suddenly broke out into a rushed explanation. "It's ok, it's alright, calm down." America took the little girl, trying to coax the boys down. He clamped the one blonde haired boy on the shoulder. "Everything's gonna be ok, now. I'm here. Nothing is going to hurt you."

"But, Mr. America..." Their eyes were flooded with tears, and they were visibly shaking. What could possibly be out there?

America still smiled fully, ignoring the anxiety settling in on him. "It's alright. I'll protect you. It's what heroes do."

The injured girl moaned, unsteady on her feet, until her head slumped against his shoulder. America took the little girl in his arms, examining the deep gash in her shoulder. "Come with me." He lifted the little girl, carrying her into the kitchen, where he sat her down on the counter.

Wetting some paper towels, he began to clean the wound, finding it seemed much worse when the blood was cleared away. The brunette boy who had been carrying the little girl had sprang into stories about what was going on, though most of the words just seemed to jumble together in his haste.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down." His attention focused on the little girl sitting on his kitchen counter, he probably wouldn't have caught anything he said, even if he wasn't panicked. Though his eyes now shifted down to the two boys. "Just, calm down, and tell me what's happening."

He started into another torrent of story telling that was still quick paced and panicked, but at least he could make out what he was saying. "We were asleep, and I heard this noise and when I went to check on what was happening there were these monsters with blood all over their faces. They ran at me, so I ran to get my mom and dad, but they were monsters too, and I didn't know what to do." He broke down into hysterics and started crying. "So I just grabbed Carrie and ran, but there were more monsters in the street, and they were everywhere. And there were people running, and screaming and they were eating people."

America's head snapped to him at hearing this, the shock churning more into his stomach. "Eating people?"

"Yea, they were. What's going on, Mr. America? What's wrong with those people? Are they sick?"

America stared off at the adjacent wall, a sense of horror and disbelief settling in on him. "Yea... maybe." The little girl slumped slightly, and he put an arm out to catch her. "Whoa. Easy there, Kid-o." He ran a hand over her sweaty forehead, her eyes staring off in a haze. "What's your name?" He addressed the boy who had been explaining, again.

"Uh, M-Micheal, sir." He answered, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "And this is my friend, Conner"

The other boy, who seemed to have lost his voice, nodded.

"Ok, Micheal." America tried to keep the horror from his voice as he spoke, so as not to frighten the children more, and pointed across the kitchen to a small cabinet in the corner. "Why don't you look in that cabinet there, and get me the first aid kit." He looked back down at the frail child laying against his shoulder. He spoke in a soft whisper, stroking her hair. "I'd like to get her to a hospital, but I don't know how plausible that is, now."

Micheal stalled, looking between America and the cabinet, not truly liking the idea of leaving his nation's side.

"It's alright." America continued to smile down at them. It seemed to be the best way to diffuse the anxiety. "I'm right here."

Still a bit hesitant, he slowly worked his way to the cabinet. Micheal had just pulled out the kit when more screams bounded through the window, and he jumped, running back to America's side, where both boys clung to him, shuddering in terror.

America's heart pounded in his chest. This could not be happening. He could feel the two boys trembling at his side, torn between wanting to protect these three, wanting to go out and help the rest of his citizens, and not to mention the fact that he was scared half to death at what he was pretty sure Micheal had just described to him.

"M-Mr. America?" Conner piped up.

His gaze fell down to the three children. The boys were staring up at him expectantly, the horror more pronounced on their young features. America breathed deep, biting his bottom lip. "Come on."

He lifted Carrie from the counter and lead the two boys from the kitchen and on down into an underground bunker, beneath the parlor, he had mainly used as refuge during nuclear war. Letting Micheal and Conner enter first, America sealed the door, and moved to lay Carrie down on one of the beds. The boys were still clinging to him, but that was mainly because he hadn't turn the lights on yet. He pulled the drawstring, illuminating the small room in an uneven light that swung with the tiny bulb.

There were shelves lining the walls, each containing food rations, and water. (Most of which were probably expired.) Some blankets, and other such necessities. A few rifles hung from the walls, as well as hand guns and holsters.

America ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath to try and steady his nerves. "Ok. I need to get Carrie taken care of. Micheal, hand me the kit."

Micheal froze, his face turning an off shade of red. "I um, left it upstairs."

America glanced down at him. "You what?"

Micheal backed away a bit. "I-I'm sorry. I was just so scared... and I guess I didn't think about it. I'm sorry, Mr. America."

America hung his head, rubbing at a knot in his forehead. He hissed at himself, reeling back in his annoyance. "No, it's ok." He started, trying not to growl. "I'll have to go get it. You two stay here, with-."

"NO!" They both screamed, running over to throw their arms around him again. "Please, don't leave us Mr. America."

"We don't want to be alone."

"Listen, boys." America knelt down, (partially having to pry them off as he did so) putting his hands on their shoulders. "You're perfectly safe down here. This place was designed to keep any kind of foreign substance out, and this includes zombies."

"ZOMBIES!" The two boys shrieked, clinging to him again. "Those things are zombies!"

America nearly smacked himself in the head. He was only assuming, but given their description, it was a safe bet. "Well."

"Please, don't leave us!"

"We don't want to be eaten by the zombie!"

"You're not going to be-"

"Don't let the zombies get us!"

"Ok, fine." America conceited, nudging the boys back so that they didn't strangle him. Greatly resisting the urge to shake them, for their insolence... even if they were young and scared. "I won't go anywhere. But believe me when I say, 'Nothing can get you, down here.' Now." He stood, indicating that the boys should sit down. "Just relax, and I'll see what I can do for your sister." Micheal and Conner sat down, and considering neither of them protested the 'sister' comment he assumed his assumption was correct.

America passed blankets to the two boys, and rummaged around for something he could use to tend to Carrie's wounds. He was bound to have something in here. A small box on one of the top shelves caught his eyes. He blew off the dust and opened the ancient kit to see medicine and bandages, still in their protective wrapping. "Bingo."

However, when he turned back to take a look at her wound, the sinking feeling returned to his stomach. He was mainly guessing from Micheal's description of what was out there, but the look of Carrie's shoulder made him nervous again. Still, he started to clean it more, using as much antibiotics to try and kill any infection that could be in the wound. "So." He hesitated, not sure he really wanted to know. "How did Carrie get hurt?"

Sure enough, his fear was confirmed. Apparently she had fallen behind, shortly after they ran into Conner, and was bitten by one of the zombies. Carrie was still conscious, but barely. It was clear that she was fading fast, but America was always an optimist and hoped that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he feared.

Micheal looked from his sister, to America, taking into account the look on his face. "Is she going to be ok?"

America started. He wasn't sure whether it'd be good or not to be honest about what may happen to Carrie. "I don't know."

"She's not doing to die, is she?"

America closed his eyes, taking in a sharp breath. The obvious answer was, 'yes', but he couldn't just tell him that. Even if there really was nothing he could do. On the other hand, he couldn't lie to the small child. What kind of hero would he be, if he just lied, because he didn't want to tell the truth? On the other hand, he also had to protect them, but was doing a piss-poor job at that, as well. Instead, he sighed, turning a smile to Micheal. "I'll do everything I can, for her." There... an ambiguous answer that the child could not hold him to. Although, if that were the case, why then did he feel like shit, for saying it?

When he had finished mending her wound, he sat down on the bed, brushing a hand through her hair, and spoke softly, "Hey, Carrie. Can you look at me?"

Her eyes turned hazily towards him. She moaned softly.

America smiled, continuing to stroke his hair. "Hi there, Sweety. How're you feeling?"

Carrie moaned again, moving her lips as if to try and speak. She managed to mumble softly what almost sounded like, 'I feel funny.' but it wasn't too clear.

America almost felt as if he wanted to cry. "I need you to stay with us, ok, Hon?"

She let out a soft, 'meh' and nodded. Though it wasn't clear how much she really understood.

As hard as he tried to keep her awake, the inevitable fact was that she was just too far gone. Carrie's eyes soon closed, and nothing could wake her. Her pulse steadily slowed, and after one last breath it never came back in. America's heart clamped in a vice, staring down at the docile face.

The two boys watched breathlessly, Micheal had started crying again, and ran over. America jumped to his feet, and held him back. "Carrie? CARRIE!" He called, though America refused to let him go, pulling both him and Conner to the other side of the room.

Micheal's eyes flicked between America and his sister. "What's wrong with her? What happened? Is she... is... she..."

America clung tighter onto him. "I'm sorry, Micheal."

"NO!" Micheal bawled harder, throwing his arms around America's waist again, but those blue eyes were too intently fixed upon the small girl laying still in the bed. He squeezed Micheal's arm, and took a deep breath to steel himself for what he had to do. "Stay together." He deposited Micheal to Conner, and headed to the wall where his guns were stored. America located his bullets, and started to load the rifle he'd just taken from it's peg, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on Carrie.

When the ammo clicked into place, Micheal looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Just stay back over there." America raised the gun, still keeping an eye fixed on the small girl. His hands started shaking, out of his control. He really hoped he didn't have to do this.

"What are you doing!" Micheal shrieked again, running over.

"Micheal! I said, stay back!"

"You can't shoot her! She's my sister!"

"Look, Micheal." America raised his gun out of his reach, glaring down at him. "I don't want to, but there's a chance she'll wake up again. And, if she does, she's going to be one of those monsters. Now, listen to what I tell you and GET BACK!" He took his elbow and pushed the boy back towards Conner, who clung to his friend, staring past America, eyes wide in horror. America tried to read his expression, then turned back to Carrie and shrieked, jumping backwards.

The small girl was indeed awake again, staring up at him with eyes like smokey glass. She bit her lip, drawing out blood with her teeth, which contrasted brilliantly against the white-blue tint of her skin. A violet tongue lapped out at the blood.

"Carrie?"

"Micheal, NO!" America reached out to pull him back, where he'd ran around him to get to his sister, but too late. Just as he dragged Micheal back, Carrie jumped forward and bit his outstretched hand. Micheal screamed, pulling back two bloody nubs.

America's hesitation died and he blew the small child's head in half. His attention turned back to Micheal, who was crying harder, screaming, his entire body shaking. "My-my-my-my hand! She-she bit me!" His eyes flew up desperately to America. "It hurts! Why'd she do that? What happened to my sister!"

"She was infected." America knelt down in front of him, using the edge of one of the blankets to try and staunch the bleeding. "When a zombie bites you, they pass on a disease that turns you into one of them." He looked up into Micheal's eyes, seeing the horror spread across his face, briefly wondering if he understood what that meant for him. "I'm so sorry, Micheal. There was no way to save her."

Micheal's breathing hardened, his eyes flicking down to the blood covered sheets. "Th-th-then... wh-what about- about me?"

America's expression fell, finding it suddenly hard to catch his breath. "She was one of them... I'm sorry." He bit his lip, as he said it. Somehow, I'm sorry just didn't seem to cut it.

"NO NO!" Micheal screeched. "I don't want to be one of them. I don't want to be a monster! Isn't there something you can do?"

America wrapped Micheal's hand further, mind reeling on what to do next. This was totally unfair. He shouldn't be forced to deal with this.

"Mr. America! Please!"

"Just hang on, I'm trying to think." America got to his feet, hands raking through his hair. His attention fell down to Carrie, feeling sick again. Come on, now. There had to be something for him to do. He was the hero, God damn it! These were his kids. He had to do something to save them.

It was difficult to focus, between the crying, and the throbbing pulse in his head. All three of their attentions was drawn up towards the stairs, as the sound of banging and screaming, along the side of his house. He knew they couldn't get to them, down there, but it was still very unnerving to have them trying to break into his home. Conner slid closer to Micheal, throwing his arms around his sobbing friend. "It's ok, Micheal. It's gonna be ok."

America felt each word clench into his chest further. No it wasn't. There was no way for him to be ok.

"Mr. America won't let us turn into one of those monsters."

For some reason that statement rang louder than even the crying. Something about his phrasing, and the matter-of-fact tone to his voice. America turned around to see Conner was looking up at him, an odd glint in his tear sparked eyes. Almost like he was urging him to understand something. "Will you, Mr. America?"

"Well." America hesitated, his gaze falling down to the rifle that had landed on the ground beside them.

"You'll protect us, right?" Micheal chimed, drawing his attention back to them.

America had to deal with some hard decisions, in his life, but this had to be the worst thing he'd ever had to face. He knew, very well, what he would want. It seemed the logical decision, but how do you explain something like this to children? Explain the logical decision for this type of deal. Course, as usual, America's logical side was fighting with his optimism. Wracking his brain, that maybe there was some way to save them, but the optimistic side didn't have a leg to stand on. His thoughts swam out of control as he knelt down to pick up his gun. He settled onto his haunches, eyes staring unfocused at the object in his hands.

"Mr. America?"

America raised his head, not fully registering which boy had spoke. "I'm sorry." Agh, he said it again. Why did he have to keep apologizing for something so horrible? I'm sorry was supposed to make things better, but it wouldn't do any good here. Nothing he could say would make this better, or any easier on them. He stood, still holding the rifle, having to clear his throat from where he'd choked on his own voice. "I'm afraid there's nothing else I can do." The screaming was growing louder, though nothing particularly sounded human anymore.

America's eyes flicked up at the door, in panic, hoping it would hold. "If I don't do this, you'll just end up a monster like them." His tongue flicked out, trying to moisten his dry lips.

Understanding dawned on Micheal's face. All colored drained from his features. "No... NO!" He got up and ran to the other side of the room. Away from America. "No, no! You're supposed to protect us! You can't kill me!"

The accusation pierced him straight through the chest. "Micheal... I wish there was another way." He spoke slowly and calmly, mainly trying to keep himself from crying.

"But you're America! There has to be something you can do! Can't you stop it some other way? I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I DON'T WANNA DIE!" His sobs were becoming a bit more hysterical.

Conner hung his head, sliding back into the wall, and drawing his knees up to his chest.

America's hands shook, the tight knot growing larger in his gut. He held the gun to his side, kneeling in front of Micheal again. A hand came up to stroke the side of his face. "I truly wish I could, Micheal. Believe me, I would give anything to not have to do this, but once you're-"

"I'M SORRY!"

This sudden burst startled him more than the zombies outside.

"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you, and stayed back, but I didn't. It's all my fault, and I'm sorry. Just please, don't kill me. Please, I don't wanna die!"

America's eyes started to burn with this confession, and he traced a hand over Micheal's hair, then pulled him into a hug. "No, I'm sorry. I should have been able to protect you from this, but I didn't." He pulled back, still resting a hand on the side of his neck. "It's not your fault, Micheal."

"No. No, Mr. America, please!"

Shaking, America stood, and took a few steps back. The only thought in his head was a quiet voice, 'This is gonna hurt me, a lot more than it is you?' He never understood how true that statement could ring. Micheal's misery was going to be over soon, but he would have to live with this. With his failure, and the price paid for it. The gun raised against the protests of the sobbing child in front of him. Biting his lip, America closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, instantly stopping the pleads for his life.

The shaking in his hands, ruptured through his body, weakening his legs. America collapsed to the ground, breaking down into sobs, punching the concrete floor. This wasn't fair. He felt so helpless. His people were dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Crashes ruptured from upstairs, and both his and Conner's eyes flicked up to the door. They had made it into his house. Some of the inhuman muffle of noises became more distinct, and America gasped when he recognized two of them as all too familiar barks.

Instantly, America bolted over to the ladder, and wrenched the door open. His head snapped around to see that no zombies had invaded the immediate room, but their shadows were clear in the distance. America placed his fingers between his lips and whistled loudly for the barking dogs.

The barking stopped, and soon two dogs skidded around the corner, closely followed by at least three zombies. Alaska pulled ahead in order to reach her master, but America's beloved Hawaii yipped as one of the zombies lurched forward and grabbed him around the ankles, his front claws scraping against the wooden floor.

"NO!" America sprinted out of the door, and picked up a boot-rack. He swung full force, breaking through the mass of long blonde hair to crack her skull with the wooden rack, which splintered in his hands. He then picked up his Pariah and ran back for the bunker, yelling for the Husky to proceed him.

Once all three were back inside, America sealed the door, and slumped to the ground to embrace his dogs. "You two ok?" He asked, checking them both over for any injuries. Alaska was uninjured, but there was a bloody gash on Hawaii's back leg. "Oh no." The dog whimpered as he tried to determine what had made the wound.

They both jumped when the Husky barked suddenly. "Alaska, hush. They can't get in-" America trailed off when he saw his dog wasn't barking at the door, but at Conner. He made his way over, stroking her soft fur. "What is it, Girl?" She barked up at him, and sniffed around the cuff of Conner's pants. There was what was unmistakeably blood blooming through the dark fabric.

America seized the cuff of his pants and examined the wound, then looked up at Conner in horror. Tears trailed down the small boy's face. "I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner. My big brother bit me."

America's eyes started to burn again. This was not happening.


	2. Chapter 2

Deep in the soft peaceful haze of sleep, Canada lay curled up beneath the blankets of his warm bed. Kumajirou was curled up next to him, adding to the warmth, with his fur. A peculiar scent drifted up to the polar bear's nose, which twitched enough to wake him up. His round black eyes flicked open to gaze around, nose still sniffing at the stagnant stench that permeated his senses. "Something's weird here." Kuma slid out of the bed, and made his way to the window. He stood on his toes, pressing his face up against the glass to see through the dark surroundings. Shadows of what seemed to be humanoid figures were making their way towards the tiny cabin. Other figures crossed their path, and it was apparent that the first shadows were attacking the other ones. Screams broke out from the crowd.

Kuma jumped, racing back towards the bed. He crawled onto the mattress, and started to shake Canada awake. "Hey, you. Wake up. Something's going on outside."

Canada hummed softly, his eyes fluttering open. "Huh? Wha?"

Kuma smacked his cheek. "Wake up. There are things outside attacking people."

"What?" Canada asked hazily, turning his eyes to look at his polar bear friend. "Attacking?"

"Yes. Attacking people. Get up." He smacked Canada in the head again, and that woke him up fully. "Ow." Canada sat up, rubbing his head. "What was that for?"

"You weren't getting up. Now, look." Kuma grabbed Canada's arm and dragged him over to the window. The dark shadows were more pronounced now, and less figures were running and screaming. A gnarled face slammed against the pane, forcing Canada to yelp, jumping back a few feet. He rolled over the bed, and instinctively pulled out a knife, which he kept under his pillow. Three pairs of hands smashed through the window, reaching for him. They moaned loudly, unhindered by the glass lodged in their skin. He watched the hands, wide eyed. What was going on.

Canada quickly rounded the bed, and snatched up Kuma, holding him close to his chest. He backed up slowly, staring in horror at the gnashing teeth of these invading monsters. Soon, one of them pushed their way through the window. Canada screamed, running for the door to his bedroom. He wrenched the door open, and sprinted through the hall to try and escape through the front. He had just unlocked the dead-bolt when more hands broke through the oak door, grabbing for him. Canada gasped, when one of the hands grabbed his wrist. He pulled futilely, yelling for the vise-like grip to release him.

"Let's get out of here." Kuma shouted.

"I can't!" Canada shrieked in terror, stabbing the hand with the knife, to no avail. It was as if the hand couldn't feel pain. "It won't let go of me." The hand tugged him closer, as a head broke through the door as well, teeth gnashing for his fingers. "No, No! NO, LET GO!" Canada screamed, trying to pull out of the monster's grasp, but another hand grabbed his other arm, around the elbow. "No, stop!"

With a rather uncharacteristic growl, Kuma leaped forward and sank his teeth into the closest arm holding Canada. He managed to pry the hands off, and Canada fell backwards once the balance that opposed his efforts to pull away broke. "Kumajirou!" He looked back up at his companion still gnashing at the undead hands.

Canada lunged forward and seized Kuma, wrenching him away from the hands. He held the white bear close to his chest, staring at the hands in confusion. "What-what's going on here?"

"Just run." Kuma croaked, clinging to his owner's shirt.

Canada held Kuma tighter, and ran down the opposite direction. He skidded to a halt, a few feet away from the monster, coming from his bedroom. His heart feeling like ice, he backed up, and took an adjacent hallway. More closed on him biting and clawing. Canada rammed into a wooden door to his cellar, locking it behind him. He crouched in the semi lit room, clinging tightly to Kumajirou. His hearing was impeded by his harsh breath, and the pounding in his ears. What was happening? What were these things? Canada sat in silence, trying to assess the situation. Coming from the peace of his sleep, straight into the hell-torrent of fear was too much for him to comprehend. What made it worse, is that he felt like he was hyperventilating. He couldn't catch his breath enough to think.

The only thing he could comprehend was that there were monsters... in his home. This point was driven in further from the pounding on the cellar door. Tears pricked his eyes, gripping Kuma tighter. One thought at a time. Monsters... get out. He had to get out of here. His car was on the opposite side of the house, but his keys were upstairs. Something else. Get out. Find a ride... or run. There was no sure way of knowing whether or not he could get to any mode of transportation, but he still had his legs. He had the ability to run, until he found something. He would find something. There had to be some way for him to escape.

Seeing as how the pounding had evolved to cracking, his mind had been made. Canada crossed to the door, leading outside, and cracked it open. He poked his head out, looking to see if the coast was clear before he climbed on out and ran.

There were still zombies around, but none close, or fast enough to catch him. Hold up, zombies? Is that what these things were? No way.

He could feel tears stinging his eyes. He was scared, confused. What was going on? How could this be happening? Where did they come from?

As he approached the nearby town, the population increased, but it wasn't what he hoped. He froze, eyes widening to an extent he didn't think possible for him, as his blood froze in his veins. Everything was completely wrecked. Shop windows busted in, cars overturned, trash and glass covering the streets. How had he not realized what was happening? His shock pressed in on him hard enough to blind him towards the figures making their way closer.

"What are you doing?" Kuma growled quietly at him, tugging on the front of his shirt. "Run."

But... I... My people.

"Just run."

What am I going to do? All of these people... dead. Turned into these horrible monsters, and he couldn't find any way to do anything for them. All of them... his people. What was happening? Canada's attention was distracted towards the threat that lunged at him. A pair of cold hands clamped onto his shoulder, but a well placed kick dislodged the grip. His instincts kicked back in, and he started running again. Have to run. Have to get away and try to figure this out. Had to get away from these monsters.

Canada stumbled, the broken glass piercing into his bare feet. He stood, as best he could, turning on the spot to try and find a way out. Everywhere he turned, more and more zombies closed in on him. The only thing his vision laid clearly before him. "No, no, no." Canada closed into himself, burying his face in Kuma's head. "What am I going to do?" It was then that he realized something was wrong. His companion had stopped moving. He felt cold in his arms. "Kuma?" Canada held the small bear out from him a bit, trying to shake him awake. "Kuma! Wake up! Please, you can't leave me!" He sobbed, shaking him harder. "Don't leave me alone... I'm scared."

A short while later, the white head looked up at him. Relief flowed through Canada, but the smile quickly faded into horror as those small black eyes were now a pale shade of grayish-blue. "No."

When the polar bear lashed out at him, Canada yelped, throwing the small bear to the ground. Kuma glared up at his master and growled, saliva leaking from his sharp teeth.

Canada's hands wrung around the small blade, feeling helpless as tears traced down his cheeks. "Kuma? No... not you too." His voice was frail, and uncertain. "Someone... what's going on? Help."

The zombies that had closed in behind him, seized his arms again. A few hands even going around his neck. Canada screamed, thrashing out at the zombies. "NO! LET ME GO!" He felt the back of his head smash into the face of one of them behind him, its teeth having caught his hair and pulled with a force that felt like part of his scalp would come with it. "LET GO!"

A loud barrage of bullets rang through the air. Many of the zombies fell around him. Somewhere in the chaos, a hot pain ripped through his leg, dropping him to the ground. Canada gripped tightly to the wound. His attention was drawn up to a barrel pushing into his head, the shadow of a large figure emerged through the fog. Canada held up a hand to defend himself. "Wait a minute. I'm not one of them!"

"America?"

"No, I'm Canada!" He cried, more scared that the thought of him being America didn't seem to satiate his desire to shoot him. Course it took him a little bit to recognize the voice. "C-Carlos?"

The figure lowered his gun. "Hey, Matt. What chu doin out here like this?" Cuba grabbed the scruff of his neck, pulling him to his feet. However, with the wound in his leg, Canada slumped, having to grasp one of Cuba's arms for support. "Whoa, you ok?" It was then that he realized his friend was injured, and how he had come to be so. "Oh, uh oops. Sorry about that. I didn't realize there was anyone living in this horde."

"It's ok. We just need to find some way out of here."

They looked around to see more zombies closing in on their location. "Yea, I agree. Come on. We can take my car." Cuba shouldered his gun, and pretty much had to carry Canada along with him. Canada's eyes flicked back to the small bear, laying amongst the decaying bodies. "Kuma."

Cuba continued to blast his way through the increasing horde of zombies, though Canada had to cover his ears against the bangs of the gun. "This way." Cuba dragged Canada along with him, wrenching open the door to his sedan. He threw Canada into the passenger seat and climbed in, closing the door.

The zombies continued to close in, scraping at the sides of the car. Cuba kept firing out at the mob of zombies, trying to start the car in the meantime. Before the engine could fully rev up, the surrounding zombies had torn through the hood, and ripped the spark plugs out of the engine, along with other important components.

Hands ruptured through the glass, grasping at the two of them again. Cuba fired out of every window, hitting each of the approaching horde with amazing accuracy... until * **clic** k*

"Uh oh." Cuba looked down at his gun in shock, trying to fire more rounds at the crowd, only to hear the hallow click of an empty barrel. "Not good."

"Not really what I wanted to hear, at the moment." Canada screamed again, as the glass shattered around him. More zombies broke through the windshield into the front of the car. "Oh no ya don't." Cuba swung around, slamming the butt of his empty gun into the nearest zombie's skull. "So much for getting out of here, eh my friend."

Canada looked around at the savage teeth fishing their way for his throat, sliding closer to Cuba. The small dagger in his hands almost seemed like a toothpick. Was this really it? Were they really going to die here? Canada closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds of the zombies howling and gnashing.

"NO!" Canada's fear was pushed aside by the resolve that he didn't want to die. It couldn't end like this. He raised the knife and slammed it into the nearest zombie's brain. Unfortunately, it got stuck, but there wasn't much time to worry about it. He kicked the door open, knocking a couple more out of the way, and bolted from the car. Ignoring his leg. Ignoring the shards of glass still lodged in his feet, and even the multiple cuts from the assault on the car. Sure the pain hindered his mobility, but not enough to break his resolve.

"Matthew, come back!" Cuba called, but Canada was too far away. He easily moved past the scraping hands, and slid into a pile of debris. His hand closed around a lead pipe, just in time to spin around and slam it through a few zombie skulls. Cuba stared in shock at this sudden change in demeanor. "What the hell?" Cuba made his way out of the car, and did his best to try and clear the way. His attention was drawn back to his friend, who seemed to be reveling in the sudden urge to defend them. Canada made his way back over, raising the pipe high over his head, and slammed it down into the head of one of the zombies trying to sneak up on Cuba.

Canada climbed up onto the car to retrieve his knife. Having to plant his foot in the back of the zombie's head to get it out. He wasn't about to leave it behind.

Cuba looked back at Canada stunned. "What's gotten into you?"

Canada jumped down, knocking another out. "It doesn't feel right to just sit back and die." The two nations stood back to back, taking down as many zombies as they could, when they closed in on them. Though as hard as they tried, there seemed to be no end to the horde surrounding them.

Cuba slammed the butt of his gun into a few more zombies, feeling his arms growing tired. "I don't think we can keep this up much longer. There's too many."

"We have to keep trying." Canada cried, flicking some zombie brains off the end of his pipe. Another one leaped forward, not giving him enough room to swing. It was all he could do to block, catching the gnashing teeth around the pipe. The force of it, might have knocked him on his back, if Cuba weren't behind him. "I can't die here."

Off in the horizon, a bright light broke the hazed darkness. It soon became apparent that they were headlights, attached to a huge ATV type van that was blaring its horn. The van plowed over a large chunk of the zombies, making its way towards them. Canada and Cuba jumped aside as it rushed by.

Distracted by the van, Canada failed to see the zombie that had grabbed him from behind. He barely had time to scream, when a bullet ripped through the zombie's skull, causing it to let go of him. Canada panted, holding a hand over his throbbing heart.

"MATT!"

Relieved shock, coupled with disbelief suddenly struck him. Canada's head snapped up at the voice to see America had thrown the door to the back of the van open. He was decked out like Rambo, shooting down the zombies closing in on him. "Matt, come on!"

"Alfred!" With his path clear, Canada limped as fast as he could towards him, throwing his arms around his brother. "You're alright."

"Wish I could say the same about you!" He cried, panic etching his voice. "You're hurt!"

"It's nothing major, just a few scrapes." Canada clapped his hands over his ears when America fired off a few more shots to ward off the approaching zombies. "Carlos, come on!"

Cuba knocked away some more zombies, as he closed in on the van. When his coast was clear, he finally turned to address them, though he didn't seem too pleased for the rescue. Instead he glared at America, pointing right into his face. "There's no way I'm going anywhere with this capitalist pig."

"It's either that, or you can stay here with them." America gestured outwardly to the zombies. "Your choice."

"I'd rather die than join forces with you."

America grabbed the door as if to close it, glaring down at him with an almost psychotic gleam. "Then I guess you're stayin here."

Canada was sitting on the floor of the van behind him, and reached up to grab his twin's arm. "You're not really going to leave him here, are you?"

America's eyes flicked to Canada before turning his glare back down to Cuba. "If he doesn't want to come, then it's his choice. I'm not endangering our lives for his stubbornness." Though most of the area was cleared out, one of the zombies was trying to get up, so it received another bullet to its head.

"Look, can we settle this quick like, amigos." Came a voice from the driver's seat of the van. "I don't much care to stay here too long."

"Paco's right. Either you come now, or wait to die."

Canada looked out the side of the van to see more coming their way. "Please, Carlos. We need to go."

"Listen, man." Mexico rolled down the window, leaning out to speak directly to Cuba. "I don't like him much either, but I'd rather stay alive. Plus, the man's got a whole freakin arsenal. Is best to stay with the weapons."

Cuba glanced down at the approaching zombies as well, clutching the empty gun in his hands. He growled, finally relenting. "Fine." He started to climb into the van. "Just don't think this means you can boss me around or anything."

"Believe me, I don't care." America slammed the door closed just as the horde started to close in on the van. "Floor it!" He called forward, and the tires screeched as Mexico slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The three in the back tumbled with the force of the take-off, but Mexico seemed to be having far too much fun running over the zombies.

There was a short yip, and Canada was bombarded by a fuzzy doggy, with a wet tongue licking his face. His happiness and relief spread further through him, as he rumpled her ears. "Hey, Alaska. It's good to see you again too, girl." Canada glanced around the small back portion of the van. The seats had been removed to allow more room for the essentials, and possibly more people. Cuba had moved up to sit shotgun, and America was tending to the bullet wound on his leg. But there was one life-form he didn't see. "Where's Hawaii?"

The fall in America's expression spoke volumes. "Al?"

"So, what happened to your leg?"

"Oh." His gaze fell down to where his twin was cleaning his injury. It didn't look nearly as bad as it felt. "Carlos was trying to save me, and I got clipped by a bullet."

"Oh really." America's eyes shifted up towards the front.

Cuba must have felt his glare on him, because he spun around. "Don't give me that look. It was an accident."

"Yea right" America snarked, turning back to his work. "You probably thought he was me, and figured you'd wipe me out as well."

Cuba snarled back at him, fingers clenched around the headrest of his seat. "I didn't even know he was there!"

America's head snapped around to him. "And I suppose you think it's smart to just barrage a crowd with bullets?"

"Oh, like you're one to talk. You're always flying off the handle, not caring about anyone but yourself."

"You could have killed him. You're just lucky it only hit his leg."

"STOP FIGHTING!" Canada screamed, slamming his fists into the floorboard of the van. Alaska yipped, drawing away, but Canada payed no mind to the dog. His eyes were narrowed on his brother. "In case you two haven't realized there are vicious blood thirsty monsters, ready to rend the flesh from our bones." His eyes shifted from America to Cuba. "Like it or not, we're in this together. And the more effort we waste in fighting, the less we have to exert on the real enemy. So, both of you, Shut the hell up and start acting like a team!" He slammed his hands down on the floorboard again, leaning forward into his twin's astonished face.

"Wow... Mattie."

Canada huffed, taking his legs from America, and started wrapping it himself.

There was a stunned silence where the only sound was the revving of the engine. Mexico chanced a sideways glance to Cuba, trying to stifle a laugh at his expression. Finally, America sighed, diverting his gaze. "You're right, Matthew." He turned back to face Cuba, holding a hand out to him. "Truce?"

Cuba stared at the offer, but took his hand begrudgingly. "For now." There seemed to be a consensus, but America was rubbing his sore fingers when he pulled his hand back. It was obvious this was a temporary thing, for both parties. Canada sighed, and yanked the gauze to tie off his leg. It stung, but he gave no more mind to it than that, as he slumped back, and started stroking Alaska's head again.

xXx

The hordes of zombies seemed to subside. They only caught snippets of them on the side of the road, where they had to swerve around upturned cars littering the free-way. No one really spoke since the outburst. Canada glanced out of the window as they swirled through the snow capped mountains. The sky was turning white. Uncharacteristically light and serene for the scenes he knew it hid. America had quietly started plucking the glass from his feet, and tending to the cuts he had acquired. As each one was cleaned, the glints of desperation seemed to fade. America moved to a cut on his arm, when something caught Canada's eye. A chain swinging from America's neck, a small tag assisting in its momentum. Canada reached up his other hand and caught it, briefly drawing his brother's eye. It was a homemade dog tag. He recognized it as being America's handy work. On one side, in varying shades of silver was the etchings of a flag. What appeared to be the British flag in the upper right corner, and eight stripes trailing down the other side. He flipped it over to see an inscription:

 _United States of America  
Hawaii  
_ _21 degrees 18 minutes North_  
157 degrees 50 minutes West  
(Honolulu)

Canada ran his thumb over the inscription, his eyes falling sad. America had lost a part of himself, just as he did Kumajirou. Canada brought the tag to his lips, closing his eyes, briefly. A hand came up around his, drawing Canada's eyes up to meet his brother's gaze. America's lips quirked into a smile, as if trying to assure him that he was alright.

Canada sighed, adding his other hand on top. "Al?"

"So, where are we going anyway?" Cuba asked, drawing both of their attentions.

"North." America answered, clearing his throat. "When I ran into Paco, he said everyone down South was already dead. We're hoping the cold will slow them down long enough for us to call for help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-edited: 07-15-2012. Yea, wasn't too much to do on this one, but I'm still better satisfied with how it turned out.
> 
> YES KUMA'S DEAD! I fuckin hate that bear, man... i don't know why, though. This chapter was actually fun. I like writing Canada, specially when he goes nutburgers. also i don't know why, but i really wanted to make Mexico psychotic. ok, maybe not psychotic, but he likes to kill dead things... yes that made sense. He's really only in this story cause America needed someone to drive. that's right Mexico, do my bidding. I am going to lose so many readers... maybe... i don't fuckin know anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Being around his territory, Canada knew of a place nearby that they could go to. An old fort with reinforced sidings, where he was pretty sure contained a radio. The only problem was, it was in a heavily populated area, and given their current state... that wasn't a highlight.

"If we're going into this stuff, man, then you gotta lend me one of them guns." Cuba turned around in his seat to where America and Canada were going over their inventory.

America glanced up from the glock in his hands. He set it down and took hold up a machine gun laying next to him. After checking the rounds, to make sure it was loaded properly, he flipped it over to hand the butt of it to Cuba. "As long as you don't shoot me."

Cuba snorted, re-checked the ammo. "We've fallen into a bond of trust, for the moment. I'm not going to do anything to break it."

"Good to know. I'd rather have you guardin' my back than stabbin' it." Grasping another rifle, America double-checked, then handed it to his brother. Canada stared at the offer, a bit unsure. "I uh, still have the pipe."

America cocked a brow at him. "Matthew."

"Al, I don't like guns. You know this."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." America slid closer, placing the gun in his brother's hands. "I'll teach you how to use it. You have to know these things." He pushed it into his hands, but Canada shoved it back. "I know how to use it, I just don't like to. Blunt objects just make more sense for this situation."

America growled, shoving it back. "Take it, just in case."

"I don't need it."

"I need you to have it."

"Alfred, why is this so important to you?"

"Because, I need to know that you'll be safe, if I'm not around." America growled. "I need to know that you can take care of yourself."

Canada's concern grew stronger, with his twin seeming so uneasy. No matter what was happening, America always seemed immovable with anything he had to face. It was kind of scary to think that he was scared. "I can take care of myself." Canada hesitated, not sure he wanted to know what was going through his brother's mind. "Why won't you be around?"

America started, taken aback. He wasn't expecting him to ask that. "Just-just in case, y'know. There's no telling what can happen."

"Like what?"

He raked a hand through his hair, trying to avoid his twin's eyes. "I dunno. Just something. We're in a war now. Anything could happen." America growled, feeling his aggravation spike again. "Will you stop looking at me like that. Did you not know what's going on out there?"

Canada's eyes shifted down to the gun still in his hands. "I know perfectly well what's going on." He looked back up at America. "I'm just starting to get a little worried about you."

America's eyes narrowed a bit, unsure. "Worried about me? Why?"

"You're acting weird. It's like you're really scared of these things."

"What?" His expression fell in disbelief. "Are you crazy? Of course I'm scared. I'd have to be some kind of idiot not to be."

"You mean, you're not?" Cuba commented, and he and Mexico laughed.

America spun around to them, his eyes flared in anger. "Shut up! Nobody was taking to you."

Mexico's laughter died down a bit. "Heh, sorry, Amigo, but you have been acting a bit weird. Usually you're so gung ho for this kinda crap. Figured you'd be all revved up and ready to bust some un-dead heads."

"This is a lot more serious than that. I don't wanna get myself killed by these flesh-eating freaks." He slumped back against the side of the van. "I know I don't always think things through, but I feel like we have to now. All I care about is trying to keep us safe."

Canada watched Alaska move over and lay her head in her master's lap. She whined slightly, and he started rubbing her ears. "Al, what happened?"

America just stared down at his dog. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, I'm going to anyway." Canada slid closer, folding his legs in, and trying to get his brother to look at him. "You're starting to worry me. It's not just fear. You keep saying you want to keep us safe, but it almost sounds like you don't believe we will be."

"We can take care of ourselves, y'know." Cuba called back, a note of condescension in his voice. "We don't need, or really want you to do it."

"I didn't say you couldn't."

"You're sure as hell acting like it."

"Don't you two start up again." Canada snapped. He sighed, turning his attention back to America. "I get that you don't want to seem weak, but if something's bothering you I have a right to know."

"I told you not to worry about it." Seeing the uncertainty not waning from Canada's eyes, America forced himself to relax, and leaned forward, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm just a bit on edge, with everything that's been going on. I'm scared, and I didn't really get much sleep last night." He shrugged, trying to laugh it off. "So, there's a few things, but nothing major to worry about." For the first time, since he'd been there, his smile closed in on genuine. "I'm alright."

Canada still wasn't completely satisfied, but once his brother decided not to tell him something there was never any use in fighting it. His stubbornness typically saw to that. Canada sighed, finally relenting. "Fine. I guess you'll tell me when you're ready."

America groaned, rolling his eyes. "You're so stubborn, y'know that?"

Canada beamed proudly. "Yea, I know."

"Now, will you just take the damn gun?"

xXx

As smooth sailing as the highways were, once they grew closer to the fort, the evident horde of civilization was growing stronger. America had reloaded Cuba's gun and gave it back to him as well, now positioning as many as he could into his own holsters. Canada was sitting in between the two front seats directing Mexico towards the fort. There was a tense hush in the van, only broken by Canada's directed whispers. "Just drive slowly." There did seem to be a decrease, from the cold, but considering it was still technically summer, it wasn't terribly cold. For once, Canada was wishing for snow.

A small pack of zombies were crowded around what might have been a moose at one point, digging their hands into the flesh. Cuba and America kept their guns on them, just in case they decided to head towards the van.

"We're almost there. Just a few more blocks." Canada glanced back at his brother, nearly feeling his tension flooding over him. Course that could have also been his own. He sighed, feeling sick to his stomach. Canada's eyes landed on the gun sitting next to him. His hand shook a bit, before he reached out to grab it, and slid it into the holster America had forced onto his back. This was crazy. How could all of this happen?

"Which way?"

Canada looked up to see a fork in the road ahead. He stood up on his knees, trying to see around the corner, and pointed to the left. "It's just around this corner."

They all jumped when America broke out the back window and fired off a few rounds. Mexico looked out his window to see what he was shooting at, but one of them slammed into his window. Mexico swore loudly, swerving to get away from it. Cuba grasped onto the dashboard, but America and Canada went tumbling into the back of the van. Alaska yipping when she slammed into the wall.

The van spun out, and soon tipped over onto its side. Canada sat up, almost oblivious to the fact that he was pushing on broken glass, and rubbed his head. "Is everyone ok?"

America groaned, feeling at a lump on the back of his head. He looked at his hand to see a smear of blood over his fingers. With a low growl, America swore to himself, placing the hand back over it. "Yea, I guess."

Mexico, who was hanging from his seat belt let out a whoa, but confirmed himself to be unharmed. Just a bit sore, maybe.

Cuba dragged himself from the front seat, clutching his right shoulder. "I think I broke my arm."

"Let me see." Canada slid closer, and examined his arm. It didn't seem to be fully broken, but that didn't mean it wasn't close, or at the very least fractured. He pulled open a first aid kit attached to the back of the seat, and started wrapping his arm. "I don't think it's broken, but any more strain and it could break. You probably should be careful."

"Yea, no shit."

"Hey." America called as he made his way over. "There's no call for that." He swiped the first aid kit and made to at least try and staunch the bleeding. It was more aggravating to be injured by something as stupid as this, considering their surroundings.

Cuba started to retaliate, but was distracted when Mexico unhooked his seat belt and fell over towards the passenger seat. He lay still for a moment, then let out a rather monotone, "Ow."

Just like that the tension was broken and the other three laughed lightly.

"Here, let me help." Canada slid closer to his brother, starting to help wrap his head.

They all jumped from the sound of loud moaning, and banging along the bottom of the van. America and Cuba both snatched up their guns, ready to ward off anything that might break through.

Alaska barked at the bottom of the van, nursing a limp as she backed up towards her master. Silence fell between the four closing in on each other in the back. Mexico sidled from the front, yelping as some moved in front of the window. Their milky eyes gazed in at them, almost seeming to not comprehend what they were seeing.

There was more slamming, and soon a few shadows could be seen climbing over the top. Fortunately the window America had broken out was on the bottom, but that didn't mean the ones on top would hold much longer. America made his way to the very back of the van, starting to put the array of guns back in their places along the many holsters he had situated on his body. Mexico and Cuba soon joined him, grabbing any of the others they could hold.

Canada watched them for a bit, stroking Alaska, who was still letting out a low growl. He situated the holster on his back, and made an attempt to situate the pipe he was using earlier. A blunt object just seemed to make more sense for the situation.

The scratching and banging outside seemed to pay off. The floorboard bowed in, before it finally broke through and two zombies scrambled to try and get through first. They backed towards the roof, Alaska barking at the zombies. Cuba started firing at any piece of decaying flesh that came into view. Alaska was getting a little too close for her master's liking. He made a grab for the Husky, and pulled her back, snapping a leash on the ring of her collar.

Mexico cocked one of his rifles and assisted in the shooting. "We have to get out of here." There was a shattering of glass up front, and he yelped, shooting a few of them back.

"How far is this fort of yours?" Cuba cried, feeling a sense of panic spread over them.

"It's just a few blocks from here. We should be able to make it, if we run."

Cuba scoffed. "Doubt it."

"Matt, take Alaska."

"What?" Canada took the leash his brother offered in confusion. "Why? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to draw them away." America spun around and started to crank the door to the sun-roof.

Canada's face made an odd change between falling and rising in horror. He grabbed America's arm, dragging him back towards him. "Are you crazy!? I'm not letting you go out there, alone!"

Alaska barked in agreement.

"It's fine. These thing's aren't that fast. I've outrun them before. Just make a run for the fort, and I'll meet you there."

"I still don't like it. We don't know what could happe- YAH!"

America whipped around to see one of them climbing through the now open sun roof. Both brother's hands snapped over their ears when Cuba fired off a bullet into the intrusive head. Cuba sighed, cocking the gun. "I'll go with him."

"What?" Both exclaimed in unison. "You want to come?"

"Might as well."

… "You're not gonna shoot me are you?"

"No." Cuba growled in his throat, and started to push him out the window. "Just get your ass out there."

"Be careful." Canada cried after him.

America climbed to his feet, readying his rifle. He looked around at the shambling creatures, daring any of them to come for him. A few started making their way over, reaching out for him. America stepped into the zombies, knocking a few of them across the head with the butt of his gun, wanting to save his ammo for when he needed it. Oddly enough, a few of the others seemed to take awareness in the death of their 'allies'. He briefly wondered if they even really cared about each other, then he determined it didn't matter, as long as these bastards were gonna eat them.

America tried to smack a few more of them away, backing up to just be out of reach of their hands and still crack them over the head. Probably something he should have done beforehand, America shot a quick glance behind him to realize they had crashed on a bridge, and there wasn't much more room behind him to back up. The front corner of the van was rammed right up to the rail, and some of the zombies were climbing over the hood.

Backing up to where they connected, he whipped around and shot the zombies climbing on over, to allow him to get up and away. Once he jumped back down to the road, he realized more were coming towards him. There were far too many of them to just bat away, so he started shooting as they came closer.

Apparently, at the sound of the gunshots, more heads snapped around to see he had come out of the car, and started closing in on him. America cleared a path, and headed for a better way to get his back to a wall. Unfortunately far too many were closing in and he couldn't make it through the open area. At least the area that was supposed to be open. He swung his gun, knocking the path clearer, with any part he could hit on them. Out from the direction of the car, more shots rang out, ripping through the skulls of a few nearest to him.

He finished clearing out the area, and looked over to see Cuba continuing to shoot the zombies now coming for him. America thought for a bit, before climbing atop an over turned car, knocking a few more out of the way as he did. A couple zombies tried to follow him up, but he kicked them over the head.

"HEY!" He shouted, banging on the side of the car. "Over here." A few stayed with Cuba, but a good chunk of the creatures came over to investigate what was making the racket. All America was really caring about was getting as many as he could away from the van.

Cuba mowed down the rest of the crowd around him, and moved away from the van. He killed a few zombies closest to him, then knocked on the back of the van. "Quickly. Come on out."

Canada climbed out first, dragging Alaska behind him, soon followed by Mexico. "Where's Alfred?" He asked, pulling on the leash of the hyperactive dog.

Cuba gestured over to the car, where the overzealous nation was still calling them over, but avoiding them marvelously. He was now off the car, drawing them closer his hands now clutched around the machine gun he had strapped to his back. America looked up at them, waving a hand over. "Clear out!"

"Come on." Mexico grasped Canada's arm, and started to drag him away, but Canada's eyes were fixed in horror upon his brother.

"Just go." Cuba forcefully pushed his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on him." After a bit more incentive, Canada went along with Mexico. "Make sure to get back to us. Both of you."

"Just hurry up."

"Come on, girl." Canada yanked on Alaska's leash, trying to get her to stop barking and follow him. After a few last protests she gave in and ran along.

As the two nations cleared the next block, they heard a large barrage of bullets from America's gun.

"Lead the way, amigo." Mexico called back, and Canada pulled the still yapping dog into the lead, clutching the lead pipe firmly in his hands. Cuba was shooting after them, taking a few out that followed, but soon Mexico had to take over the protection. There was far too many people in this town. Infected flesh-eaters running out from behind each corner, and alleyway.

"How much further?" Mexico called out, firing down more of their obstacles. Since he figured out that he was going to have to have the guns, he loaded up everything that America hadn't.

"I can almost see the gate." Canada cried, pointing ahead of them. They closed in on the fence surrounding the compound, and threw himself against the chain-link entrance, and shook. "It's locked tight." He dropped to his knees, pulling up. "And the bottoms buried in cement."

Mexico backed up towards them, still shooting at the horde coming towards them. "Then we go over, man."

"What?" Canada looked up at the top. "There's barbs lining the top. How are we gonna-"

He wasn't sure how he managed it, but Mexico pulled his coat off from under the crossing of the holsters, and threw it over the top of the fence. "Come on." Mexico climbed on up over the fence, and dropped down the other side. More impressed that he hadn't thought of that, Canada scooped Alaska up in his arms. He checked around to see how close the other zombies were, and threw her on over the coat.

Mexico waited to receive her on the other side, urging Canada to hurry over. Canada had cleared the top, and just started climbing down when the zombies slammed into the fence. He yelped, jumping back off the side of the fence. He landed far too hard on the concrete ground, reminding him that he wasn't wearing shoes. Even more so when the cuts from the glass sparked, sending a shock up his leg and agitated the gunshot wound.

Canada stared panting at the zombies trying to get through the gate towards them. "Get up. We don't have time to sit." Mexico stated, pulling him to his feet. "And take your dog." Canada realized that Alaska was barking frantically, trying to get to the offending attackers. He took the leash, kneeling down to pet her. "Shh. Quiet down. It's ok, girl. We're safe in here."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Canada glanced up at him, then looked to where he was shooting to see three zombies were running towards them, from inside the compound. Mexico mowed them down quickly. The rattling of the fence caught his attention, and Canada looked back to see the zombies were clambering over each other to try and reach the top of the fence. As odd as it seemed, they were succeeding, in their own weird way.

"Shut that dog up!" Mexico hollered, as more zombies started running at them.

"Quiet down, girl." Canada pushed himself onto his feet, and started off towards the fort, after Mexico, his limp far worse than it had been before. By the time he caught up to him, Mexico was mere feet away from the door. Suddenly, Alaska stopped. She lowered her head, and growled towards Mexico, forcing Canada to stop. Canada pulled at the leash. "What's wrong with you? We have to get out of here." He urged harder, but she ignored him, backing up. "What is it, girl?"

Alaska barked openly towards Mexico.

Mexico made it to the door, and wrenched it open, but what waited behind it was far from inviting.

Canada's head whipped around at the sound of Mexico's screams and frantic shooting to see a near shower of decaying bodies falling over him. "Paco!" Soon the screaming was muffled by the bodies, and the shooting stopped. The ones not busying themselves with the southern nation ran towards Canada, from the sound of his shout. Creeping up in front of him, growling low in her throat, Alaska lunged forward and bit at the nearest zombie. "NO!" Canada cried, and pulled back on her leash, swinging the pipe around with his free hand, and shattering the first skull it came in contact with. "Come on." He shouted, pulling sharply on the leash. Alaska barked a couple more times, and followed.

They tried to make it for another exit, or somewhere else to go, but the mob that had made it over the fence were now surrounding him, and the still yapping husky. Canada strapped the leash around his wrist, trying to free his hands up enough to take out a few surrounding zombies, with the lead pipe firmly clenched in his hands. He managed to clear enough away and ran towards the artillery. He didn't really know, or trust that he could make it inside, but with his other options blocked, there had to be somewhere to hide out. Fortunately, a solution soon came into view. There was a large array of tanks lined up inside one of the large storage bunkers. It was probably only about five yards, but with the surrounding onslaught, it seemed miles. Good thing none of these monsters were all that fast. Alaska wasn't fighting anymore, but running full speed ahead, which in turn made Canada run faster to keep up, his bare feet slapping painfully against the cold concrete ground.

They made a beeline for the nearest tank, and Canada started climbing up the side of it, Alaska skittering up behind him. He had just started trying to twist open the door, when a blood soaked face popped up over the other side, sounding like it was hissing at him. Barely giving him time to react, Alaska leapt forward, and bit it right in the throat. Canada swung his pipe around, managing to knock the zombie's head off, but nicked the top of the dog's head. She whimpered, shaking her head. Canada wrenched the door open, pushing Alaska down the small hole before sliding in himself, and sealing the door back.

Canada found it difficult to catch his breath. Raking his shaking hands through his hair, he buried his head in his arms, and started to cry. He couldn't believe this was happening. Mexico was dead, and God knows what happened to America and Cuba. They said they were going to try and meet them here, but this place wasn't much better than the street. What if they came here looking for them, and wound up just like Mexico?

There was a small whimper, and a soft head rubbing against his arm. Canada looked up, brushing his eyes, to see Alaska giving him the stereotypical puppy dog eyes. She whined again. Canada sniffed, and pulled the husky tightly into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-edited - 07-26-2012 I am having serious issues reediting this one. Apparently, everything happens too fast, but it was happening fast, anyway, so I really don't know how to fix that. Also, I think the original wording for this is so ingrained in my mind, that I can't think of anything else. Oh well, at least I picked up a couple dropped threads.
> 
> GOD DAMN IT AMERICA! haven't you watched enough movies to know that you never split up... GEEZE! Oh yea. I almost forgot about my dogs. Apparently some people think I'm stupid for making Alaska and Hawaii America's dogs, but y'know what, i think I'm a genius, so there. plus I've always wanted a Husky, and Pariahs are too cute, man. And in case anyone's curious, Hawaii was infected, but he ended up getting eaten up when America was making his escape. He was such a small pup who bravely died to protect his master... tragic.


	4. Chapter 4

It was near lunch-time and England had just settled down in the parlor with a cup of tea. Crossing to the small table, he caught a quick glimpse outside. The weather outside was a bit cloudy, but it wasn't yet raining. A few children darted around the small park outside, not giving a lick for the weather. Their screams of laughter followed him to his seat, and England smiled to himself. He had just gone to take a sip of his tea, when the front door slammed open. "ARTHUR!" France burst in, startling him into spilling the hot cup in his lap.

England hissed, shooting up to his feet, and brushing the excess from his pants. "What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, barging into my home?"

"Never mind that. Have you seen the news?"

"What?" England grabbed a towel from his stove, and started to try and dry the tea off. "No, why?"

France crossed into the parlor, and headed straight for the television.

England followed. "What could possibly be so important that you have to come into my house uninvited?"

"Just shut up and watch." France had cut the tv on, and flipped through a few channels.

The tv showed shots of what looked like some kind of rendition of a post-apocalyptic world. Shadows moved along the grounds, but the camera was held back too far to truly make out what was there. A female voice was narrating the scene. "It's difficult to believe the images that we are seeing, but the evidence is becoming frighteningly clear." The camera zoomed in to try and get a better view of the shambling figures. "What appear to be zombies have completely taken over the the continents of North and South America. It's difficult to know the fate of the rest of the nation, but from what our reporters have found, there seems to be no end to the presence of these disease ridden monsters. The virus is spreading quickly, leaving an unknown source for containment, for the rest of the world. We will try to keep the updates of the migration of-" England rushed over to the tv and shut it off.

He dropped his hands on top of the monitor, staring down between them in horror. "This doesn't make any sense. How could something like this start up?"

France shrugged. "No one knows."

"This is all a hoax." England exclaimed, looking back at him. "There's no such thing as zombies. It's just one of Alfred's stupid pranks. I swear he's obsessed with monsters and other such foolish things."

"I thought the same, but I tried to call Matthieu, and could not get an answer."

"He could be in on it. Those two seem to be getting closer." England marched over towards the phone, and wrenched it from the cradle, frantically dialing a number. He was scowling towards his former brother, but there was a definite note of unease in his eyes. The phone rang a few times before...

"Hey dudes, I don't blame you for wanting to talk to the awesome me, but I'm actually not here. So, leave a message and I'll see about getting back to you. **" *** beep*

England growled at the phone. "Alfred, enough of this charade. You answer this phone right now, or you're going to be sorry." He waited briefly, then sighed in aggravation. "Come on, enough of this silly talk of zombies. Answer this phone, now!" England's annoyance was pronounced, but his unease was increasing. "You better answer me... please." His eyes started to burn, and England pushed in on them. "Alfred! Answer. This. Phone. You're not allowed to die, you great buffoon." After a few more aggravated pleas, England finally slammed the phone down. He hung his head over the phone, brushing his eyes again.

France walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We have to help them."

England shook his head. "No. There has to be an explanation." He snatched the phone back up, calling America's cell. It rang a few times, before turning over to voice-mail. His aggravation increasing, England slammed the phone down and ripped it back up. The buttons were almost breaking under the force of his dialing. The pulse of his heart and breathing increased every time he heard it ring. Finally, the answering machine picked up. "Hello. Sorry I wasn't here to receive your call. Please leave a message, and I'll get back to you."

England drew in a sharp angry breath. "Matthew, answer this phone, right now." There was a chance that America was just sitting back, laughing at his concern, but he knew Canada would answer. He knew that once he heard he was upset, Canada would respond. He had better. Canada better pick up this damn phone and tell him it's all just some elaborate prank. "I'm not playing around with you two anymore. Tell me what this damn zombie nonsense is all about!"

France inched closer, sliding a hand onto his shoulder. "Arthur... I already called Matthieu."

"PICK UP THIS DAMN PHONE!"

"He's not there."

England's eyes were burning, tears running down his cheeks. "Please, answer me."

The machine must have been full, because it suddenly clicked, and England heard the sound of dead air, through the receiver. "Matthew." His hand fell away from his ear, body growing numb."

"We can always head over and make sure they are ok."

"It's no use." His voice sounded distant, even to his ears. "They're gone."

"It couldn't hurt to check."

England punched the table. "You heard the broadcast! North America's already completely overrun." He sobbed helplessly. "They're both dead."

"Do not think like that." France cried, appalled. "They are both strong. They are bound to be strong enough to handle these mindless creatures. Together they are sure to be able to get somewhere safe."

"Oh yea." England whipped around to him. "And what if they're not together? What if they were not able to reach each other? What if they are now one of those horrible creatures? YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON, SO DON'T LECTURE ME ABOUT WHAT WE SHOULD DO!"

France smacked him across the face to shut him up. "Get a hold of yourself."

England's annoyance now directed towards him. "How dare you strike me, you filthy frog."

France folded his arms. "I am sorry, but you were hysterical."

"That still doesn't give you the right to hit me, like that."

"Will you shut your face! What matters now is making sure that they are alright." France grabbed the front of England's shirt, and pulled him closer. "So why don't you pull out your broomstick, and fly us over there."

"I don't have a flying broom, you stupid, Git."

France shoved him away, folding his arms again. "Then, what do you suggest?"

England folded his arms as well, rubbing his chin in contemplation. "We have to find something that allows us to actually look for them as well as keep ourselves safe. The hard part is, how do we even know where they are? Their homes are rather large, and there's no way to know if they are even still there."

France's expression fell into uncertainty. He settled down on the couch, dropping his head in his hands. "There must be some way. I would hate for something to happen to those two."

England scoffed. "Oh please. You're just worried about Matthew. You could care less what happens to Alfred."

France dropped his hands, eyes narrowing on his rival. "I may not like him that much, but that does not mean I want him to die. Besides, I thought you still hated both of them for leaving your sorry ass."

England's face reddened. "I don't hate them. I mean, I never hated Matt, and Alfred..." His face burned darker, fists clenching at his sides. "Just because I've tried to kill him on numerous occasions, does not mean I actually want him dead. I don't want either of them to get hurt."

France sighed, slumping back against the couch. "We are getting nowhere. We should try to think more logically about a way to help, instead of bickering."

England's aggravation melted, and he fell on the couch next to France. "I hate to admit it, but you're right. The boys are in trouble, and we don't have a clue of how to even begin to help them."

France shrugged. "Perhaps we could call somebody to help us?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-editted: 07-26-2012 WOO more Iggy angst
> 
> WOW that was a short Chappy and YAY IGGY... AND FRANCE! i love them so. they are extremely fun to write, and just the bickering for bickering sake is far too awesome to pass up. Don't deny your feelings, Iggy. Admit that you love little Alfred BWAHAHA
> 
> WHY THE FUCK AM I SO HYPER!


	5. Chapter 5

Lithuania shuffled around the corner, peering nervously into Russia's office. "Um, Mr. Braginski, sir. There's an odd transmission coming through on the radio."

"What kind of transmission?" Russia inquired, not bothering to look up from his papers.

"I'm not sure. The transmission is garbled, and keeps fading in and out, but it sounds like Williams, sir."

Russia's head snapped up.

"He seems to be in some kind of distress. Maybe under attack or- eee" Lithuania shrunk back, when Russia quickly rose to his feet. "Er, sir?" Without another word, he left the room, and quickly made his way to the control room.

When Russia entered the room, there was a distinct hiss coming from the receiver, along with a few garbled words. Lithuania was right. The message wasn't clear, but the tone from frantic. And that voice... it was definitely Canada. Russia rushed over to the radio, and picked up the transmitter. "Matvy?" He fiddled with the controls, trying to make the message come in clearer. "Matvy, I am here. Do you read me?"

"-van? -s-tha-too?

"Hold on. I'll try to get you clear." He fiddled with the nobs more, until the static started to clear up more. "Ivan? Ar-ou there? Can-hear me?"

"You're coming in? Can you hear me?"

"Ivan! Is that really you?"

"I'm here, Matvy. What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I'm just so relieved. I've been calling every frequency I could for hours now." He could hear Canada crying harder over the transmission. "Thank God you answered."

"What goes on?"

"Ok. You're probably going to think I'm crazy, but I'm surrounded by zombies."

Russia's face fell. "Zombies?"

"Yea. Disease ridden flesh eaters. They attacked me in my home. They're killing everyone. Now, Alaska and I are stuck in a tank, by Fort Pleasant, and I can't seem to find a way out."

"Alaska is with you? Where is Jones?"

"I don't know. Al ran off to distract the zombies, while we got away, but things didn't exactly go as planned. Now I don't know what happened to him." Canada was sounding more like he had a head cold. "He's probably already been eaten by those monsters."

Russia couldn't keep from rolling his eyes at his rival's stupidity. "Are you safe? Can the zombies get you?"

"I don't think so, but I can't stay in here forever."

"Just hold on. I will get you as soon as I can."

"Please, hurry."

Russia began messing with the settings, and pulled a smaller attachment from the main component. "I will take this small radio to keep contact. You can talk me to you."

Canada let out a small shuddered gasp and sniffed. "Thank you, Ivan."

Russia ran from the room, calling for the Baltic brothers. "Front and center."

The three lined up in a quick flash that almost appeared to be a blur. "Yes, sir."

"Matvy is in trouble. Procure transportation to North America, at once."

"Yes, sir." They saluted and vanished as quickly as they had arrived.

Russia spun around and started from the room. He caught a quick glimpse out the nearest window. There were shadows off in the distance, running around in what looked like a panic. There was a vague hint of screaming, and one of the shadows tackled another one. "Zombies, huh? That might explain the racket outside." He smiled to himself. "To think these silly things are seen as scary." Russia had turned around to prepare for his journey, when he came face to face with a pair of violet eyes, matching his own, and screamed, jumping back.

"Big Brother." Belarus rushed forward, and threw her arms around his waist. "Big Brother, there are monsters outside. I need you to be protecting me from them."

Russia patted his sisters head, with a shaky hand. "Now now, Natalia. You do not need me to protect you." He tried to pry her arms off. "You are strong enough to protect yourself."

Belarus smiled up at him. "Then I can protect you, Big Brother." She clung tighter, despite his attempts to get her off. "I will forever stay by your side. I will not let harm come to you."

Russia could feel a chill run through his body as he still struggled to pry his baby sister's arms from around his waist. He started to inch towards the door dragging her along. "Well now, how can you protect me if you cling like this? It makes no sense."

"Hmm. You're right." Belarus let go, but the second she did, Russia bolted out the door with near the same spread as the Baltic states. "Big Brother!" Belarus called, running after him. "Why do you have to be so mean!"

Russia made it to his Snowmobile, (which he had rigged to switch gear between snow and non) and took off, before she could reach him. He heard her calling after him again, as he took off towards the nearest Air force base. That is until he heard her scream. Russia's head snapped around to see one of the shadowed figures running after her as she darted around the house.

Russia cursed his good nature as he swirled around to head back. He pushed the motor as hard as he could, screaming over the ground. Belarus, and the zombies chasing her came into view, and Russia mowed down the undead. Belarus threw herself against the side of the house, staring at her brother in awe. "Well? Get on." Without a second thought, she nearly floated onto the back, clinging tightly to Russia, as he took off again. First having backed over the rotting corpses, for good measure, a large grin on his face.

They were well on the way towards the hanger, when two other shadows were running across the way. Greatly enjoying how the zombies splattered as he ran them over, Russia cranked up the speed and headed straight for them.

The two figures screamed, jumping out of the way of the rampaging nation.

Russia stopped, trying to factor this information. He glance back at Belarus. "Do zombies scream?"

"I do not think so."

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, BRAGINSKI!"

"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED US BOTH!"

Russia looked up to see two fuming nations closing in on him. England advanced on him, smoke nearly spewing from his ears. "Where can you possibly be going that requires such a harsh speed!"

Russia looked between the two of them, then gestured back towards the shadows, stumbling closer. "Do you not see these monsters?"

Huh?

They looked to where he indicted and France screamed.

"They're already invading Europe! How could that be?"

"Take us with you!" France exclaimed, climbing on the back of the snowmobile.

"Don't be daft. There's no way this thing can carry us as well."

"Good point." Russia stated. "Get off."

There was a series of loud moaning, and they spun around to see the group of zombies closing in on them. They weren't moving all too fast. Evidently the cold whether tightened their joints, but it was still scary. Immediately, England changed his assessment on the situation. "On second thought, let's make this work." He leaped onto the back, clinging along with France. "Gogogogogogogo."

Russia rolled his eyes, growling in defeat, and took off again. The heavier weight hindered mobility some, but no one was willing to let go of their designated escape mobile.

After a short while, they lost view of any other zombies, and France had to adjust his grip on Belarus, in order to keep England from dragging him off the back. "So, where are we going?"

"I don't know where you are going."

"We need to get to North America." England elaborated. "Do you know some way we can get there?"

Russia sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, he might actually need help. "I am heading there as well. I received a distress call from Matvy, and am heading over to assist."

"What?" France perked up greatly, from hearing this. "You spoke to Matthieu? You know where he is?"

"Generally."

England leaned over, speaking loudly over the rush of wind. "Is Alfred with him?"

Russia sighed in annoyance, to hearing that name. "No. Apparently Jones ran off on his own, to distract the zombies, and Matvy knows not where he is."

"Bloody fool." France was a bit shocked, to feel England clinging tighter to him, his head resting against his back. He started to feel bad for him.

"So, you have a way to get there?"

"My men are procuring a ride, as we speak."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: lol Russia's a good guy now, right? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA i had to have Lithuania in here. I FREAKING LOVE HIM! and with him, comes the other two XP also, apparently i have a bad habit of sliding into British slang whenever Iggy's around... that was actually more relevant in the last Chappy, but i actually have a fuck ton of these done already (and by fuck ton, i mean 8), and keep losing my place


	6. Chapter 6

The soft melody permeated the house, as Austria continued to play. His hands traced along the ivory keys, allowing them to recite the sweet song he used to demonstrate his expression of contentment. He'd been playing for a while now... and it was driving Germany crazy.

Germany sat at his desk, rubbing away the pain pulsing in his head. Austria had been playing the same song for hours. The only thing that seemed to break up the sound of the piano, was Hungary crooning about how beautiful the song was. Sure it was pretty, but hearing the same song over and over again tends to get annoying. He wasn't even sure where the melody looped anymore. Why the hell was he so contented here? Sometimes Germany just wished he could kick him out, but he knew his boss would never allow it. Finally, he had enough. Germany slammed his hands down on his desk, and shot up to his feet. He stormed from the room, nearly punching open the door to the parlor. "How long are you going to play that blasted song! I have half a mind to-"

Austria was staring up at Germany, Hungary perched on the stool next to him. All three eyes went blank, then Germany face-palmed. "I know that scream." He spun around and headed for the front door. Hungary and Austria hesitated then followed.

Germany marched up to the front door, and jerked it open. "Veni, what the holy Fuhrer are you screaming about this time!" His anger subsided, face melting with what he saw. "What the hell?" He couldn't make out too much in the distance, but there were screams other than Italy's ringing through the sky... his was just the loudest. There was dust, mixed with fog obstructing vision, except for shadows moving through them.

By the time he was able to focus more on the surroundings, Germany was plowed over by his hyperactive friend. Hungary ran over to the door, and slammed it closed. She then ran over to the hysterical nation, and took his shoulders. "Feliciano. Dear, Feli, What is the matter?"

Italy was still screaming incoherently, seemingly unaware of who was even around him.

"Feliciano, calm down and speak to us."

"NOICANTTHEYTRIEDTOEATMEANDI'-"

"ITALY, SHUT UP!" Germany slapped him across the face, and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "We can't help you unless you stop screaming and tell me what has happened!"

"Mr. Germany, please." Hungary pulled him off of Italy, and drew him into her arms. She rocked the hysteric nation, gently stroking his hair. "Shh. It's ok, Feliciano. You're safe now. It's ok, it's ok. Just calm down, dear."

Germany watching his friend in shock. Italy was always a bit of a coward, but he'd never seen him this frightened before. It was enough to make his own heart jump into his throat. "Veni?" Italy had stopped screaming, but was reduced to quick harsh breathing that sounded like he was hyperventilating. His face was buried in Hungary's shoulder. Germany knelt next to his friends, rubbing a hand along his shoulder. Italy sniffed, turning his head to look at him, his body still heaving from trying to catch his breath. Germany traced his fingers regrettably along the red mark he left on his face. "Veni, what has happened?"

His breathing started to slow, lips moving as if to try and speak, but only small squeaks came out. "Th-there's th-th-these mo-mo-monstAHHS!" There was banging on the door, making Italy scream again, and hide his face in Hungary's shoulder.

Germany stood up quick, standing in front of them. The banging was frantic, coupled with loud moans that almost sounded as though they were from hunger pains. Germany rushed over to the wall, and wrenched open his gun locker, plucking a Luger from the holster. He readied it, taking aim at the door. "Italy, stop screaming!"

Italy's screaming lessened, but there was no indication of it stopping any time soon.

The banging grew louder, almost as if there was more. Crashes drew their attention to the now broken windows to see blood drench faces and hands trying their best to get to them. Even Germany felt a wave of terror wash over him. Hungary got to her feet, pulling Italy along with her. She clung tightly to him, staring in fixed horror at the deranged monsters trying to force their way towards them. "What are those things?" Austria gasped, moving in behind Hungary, and clamping tightly to her shoulders.

"Everyone." Germany commanded, backing towards them, readying himself to shoot if need be. "Head for the bunker. In the basement, go. Now!" They spun around and ran. Germany halted to make sure they had cleared the room before following. He kept his gun at the ready until they had made it to the basement, and sealed the door. Germany fell against it, brushing his face. "Veni?" He looked up and walked over to where Hungary had taken him to sit in the corner.

Germany sighed, making his way over. He pulled out the cot folded against the wall, and started setting it up. When everything was set up and locked in place, he took hold of Italy's arm and helped him to sit on the cot. Hungary sat next to him, Germany taking the other side, both with their arms around Italy. Germany shook him gently. "Veni, listen to me. We are safe now, but you have to tell us what we are up against. You have to tell me what those things are. What they are doing to people."

Italy whimpered, curling up to Germany. "Ludwig." He crooned, beginning to cry again. Hungary relented him to Germany, then moved over to sit with Austria, who was perched on a barrel labeled wurst. His head was buried in his hands, and Hungary stood next to him, drawing him tightly into her.

"I-" Italy began, having to stop to clear his throat. "I stopped at my local bistro to get some pasta for lunch. And-and then there was a scary noise coming from the kitchen. This man ran out. He didn't seem to be all together there, and he started biting people. Eating them, killing them." His voice started to sound more frantic and quickened. "I tried to run, but some others cut me off. They were as crazy as he was, and started attacking people. Before I knew it, I was surrounded, and they all wanted to eat me. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to try and find Romano, but he wasn't anywhere. I was so scared, that I just ran." Italy started crying harder, burying his face in Germany's shoulder. "My brother's out there, and I just ran. I should have tried to find him."

"You can't help anyone if you're dead. You did the right thing to secure your safety first."

Hungary took a step back, still maintaining contact to Austria, and brushed a hand over Italy's head. "I'm sure he's ok. Romano can run just as fast as you can, so I'm sure he's made it to safety, and wants to find you just as much as you do him."

"She's right." Germany stated, holding him tighter. "If there's anything you Italys know, it's how to get away from danger. He most likely found Spain, or somebody-" He was cut off by banging on the door. Italy whimpered, and clung tighter. All eyes snapped towards the door, Hungary and Austria, holding each other tight. When they confirmed the door would hold, Germany wrapped Italy tighter in his arms, pushing his face into the top of his hair. "I'm sure Romano's safe and is taking up shelter with them."

"There's something else." Italy sniffed, drying his face. "There were some of them... laying in the streets. I could have sworn they were dead, but then they got up." He shook, wringing his hands. "They got up, and started coming for me too. They turned into some kind of monsters, and they came after me too." The banging on the door grew louder, and Italy whimpered again. "Shh." Germany held his head against his shoulder. "They can't get through that door. It's triple re-enforced titanium. Designed to keep everything up to an atomic bomb from getting in this room." Germany patted Italy on his shoulder, and made his way over to the wall. He wrenched open the locker, pulling out a few rolls, and unfurled them on the ground. There was an array of guns furled up in them. "And enough arsenal to maintain a small army."

Hungary dropped down on the ground, and started unfurling the other rolls. Germany caught a quick glimpse up at her. Her face was set as she scavenged through the arsenal.

"What are you two doing?" Austria asked, dropping his hands into his lap.

"Getting ready." Germany replied flatly, strapping a holster around his waist.

Italy uncurled his legs, and set his feet slowly on the ground.

"Ready for what?"

"We can't stay here forever."

"Why not?"

"We don't have the supplies to keep the four of us alive. Plus, we have to get out and try to find Romano."

"Really?" Italy squeaked, his eyes taking an uncertain hope.

Germany smiled at him. "Of course."

Italy's eyes snapped to the scraping at the door. "But, what about them? We're surrounded."

"They should stop eventually. Either get bored, or distracted by something else, if we stay quiet. Those things shouldn't know for sure that we're down here."

Germany got to his feet, crossing over to the wall behind Austria. Austria glanced back at him. "What do we do if they don't go away?"

Germany plucked what looked like a metal backpack, with a hose, from the corner. "Then we resort to plan B."

The other three nations exchanged looks, as he slid a tank from the same location. "What might plan B be?"

Germany twisted open the tank and hooked up a hose between it and the backpack. "Every type of flesh can burn."

xXx

They mostly sat in silence, quietly coming up with plans to get away from there and try to find other living souls. Germany had set the flame-thrower aside, and continued to assist Hungary in making sure the rest of the guns were fully loaded and functional. Course, he had to work one handed, not willing to make Italy release his other arm. The banging and scratching on the door subsided after a few hours, but there was still evidence of life outside the door... or at least movement.

"So, how do you suggest we outrun those things?" Austria asked from where he had moved down to join them, on the floor.

"I have an ATV parked outback." Germany answered. "If we can make it to that, we can get away."

Hungary shushed them. "Listen."

They fell silent for a time, in which Italy tightened his grip. The scratching had stopped. There was nothing, but some soft distant moans, almost as if they were moving away. She turned to Germany. "Do you think they're leaving."

"There's no clear way to know for sure. Not until we go out there." Germany started to stand.

"Ludwig?" Italy started, trying to keep contact with his hand, when he stood.

"Shh." Germany picked up the rifle laying next to him, cautiously walking closer to the door. He pressed his ear against the cold metal, listening for any other signs that they were still out there. After a while he gently moved away and continued sliding various guns into place. "If nothing else, they're away enough from the door that we can get out and make a run for it."

Austria looked appalled. "We're heading out there? Now?"

"Now's as good a time as any."

Hungary immediately jumped to her feet, and started setting herself up as well.

"Ludwig?" Italy whined, sliding closer to him. "I-I can't go back out there, again."

"Yes you can."

"No... no, I can't. I-I'm too scared."

"Veni, listen to me." Germany knelt in front of him. "I'm not going to leave you here alone. You have to come along, because I need someone to watch my back." Italy's eyes widened on him. "What?"

Germany took the rifle he picked up earlier and shoved it into his hands. "I showed you how to use this, do you remember?"

Italy shook his head, tears flooding his eyes. "No, I-I can't. You can't rely on me for this. I don't want to go out there."

"Veni, you listen to me." Germany grabbed his head, between his hands, making sure he was looking at him. "I swear to you, I will not let anything happen to you. I will protect you, but I can't look after you if you're not there to look after me. Ok?" Italy's lip started quivering. "Veni, you have to come with me. I need you to come with me."

A short pause and he nodded.

"Ok?"

"ok."

"Good." Germany smiled, patting him on the side of his head, and stood up. Italy's face fell, clutching the gun to his chest.

Germany hitched the flame-thrower up on his back, hooking it tightly around his waist. He secured the nozzle to his hip, then turned around to see Austria checking over his own rifle. He looked a bit out of place, holding that gun, but it wasn't something they needed to worry about now. Not as long as he knew how to use it.

Somehow, Hungary didn't seem as out of place, loaded to the gill with his arsenal. Even with that long floofy dress blooming from underneath the numerous holsters. Not to mention she had grabbed his spare flame-thrower.

Germany started turning the nobs on his back, inching closer to the door. "I'll clear the path. You three stay close to me."

"Got it." Hungary stated, shoving Austria towards the door. "I'll bring up the rear."

Germany held the nozzle in one hand, the other on the handle. He turned back to the other three. "Are you ready? Italy?"

Italy was on his feet now, but was standing back, still clutching the gun to his chest.

"Italy!"

"Huh?"

"Are you with us?"

He straightened up, hands wrapping tighter around the barrel of the gun. "Uh, y-yea. Of course." His shaking hand found the trigger, and he made his way forward to stand behind Germany. Germany held a hand up to them. "Stay back a bit. I'll go first and tell you when it's safe."

A short second's hesitation, and Germany wrenched the door open, swinging out into the hall. He held the nozzle up, hoping he wouldn't have to use it, and glanced around. Three bodies turned towards him. Not enough for him to resort to the fire, so he plucked the gun from his hip and took them each out in turn. After another quick check of the hall, Germany waved them on out. "Come on." They each filed out after him.

The sound of footsteps came from behind them. Hungary spun around, quickly nailing the invading force behind them. The group had drawn away from her, and she trotted to catch up, after making sure none could follow.

They made it outside to see that the early morning fog had already lifted. There was a clear view of the surroundings, but luckily there weren't too many at this entrance. Germany and Hungary easily picked them off, as they rounded the house. The small group bolted across the grounds, unwittingly attracting more and more of their obstacles. They closed in on the ATV, sitting in the driveway, and Germany passed Austria his keys. "Get in!" He cried, hanging back while Austria and Italy climbed in. He turned to Hungary, who had her back to his. "You too." His hand fell on her back, and he shoved her towards the vehicle, before climbing in himself. Austria cranked the ignition and took off, plowing over a few along the way to the main streets. Germany and Hungary stood guard, ready to take down any that got too close.

Italy hunkered down in the middle of the back seat, clinging the gun close to him again.

"Where are we going?" Austria called, briefly wondering if he should slow down.

Germany settled down in the seat, next to Italy. "Just stay on the main road, and head west. Hopefully, the other nations are still alive, somewhere."

"And if they are not?"

"Then we find supplies as soon as possible, and secure a safe-house."

xXx

As they went along, the roads seemed to clear. Well, mostly. The roads were littered with crashed and immobile cars, but no sign of undead life. No signs of any type of life, for that matter. Which was, at the same time, comforting, and a tad distressing. After what seemed like an eternity, their vehicle let out a loud bang, which jerked it to the side. Austria slammed on the brakes, the ATV skidding to a halt.

"What the hell was that?" Germany shouted, jumping up in his seat and looking around. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me." He nudged Italy off his arm, and into Hungary's, as he jumped out to further investigate.

"What has happened, Mr. Germany?" Hungary asked, comforting the further frightened Italy.

Germany checked the pile of black rubber, and the axle it came from. "We blew a tire. Erg, of all the things to-" He growled, kicking the axle, and ran a hand through his hair.

Austria slumped in his seat. "Do you have a spare?"

"That was the spare." Germany commented, with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm his nerves, and scanned the area. "Perhaps we can see if one of these cars are working."

They split up into groups of two to explore the area. Splitting up, but still retaining enough distance for at least shouting communication, if need be. Italy clung tight to Germany, the rifle pushing into both of their arms.

Germany sighed. "Veni, please. There are no zombie's around here. You do not have to cling so close."

"But, they could be hiding somewhere." Italy shook, his eyes shooting around at top speed.

"They're not smart enough to know how to hide." He managed to push Italy off of his arm, but he still didn't seem to want to even take a step back from him. Germany may have needed his arm, but he had a hard time deciding whether he really wanted him to let go. Good thing Italy saw fit to grab hold of the tail of his shirt. They scanned the various vehicles in the area, trying to see if any were operational. Most, however, had blown tires, like their own, or were crashed in the panic of their failed escape attempt. "Hey!" Germany called to Austria and Hungary.

"Be quiet." Italy squeaked, but Germany shushed him.

"Hey, let's head to more towards the front of the pack. It won't do us any good if we find some kind of vehicle, but can't get through."

"I was just thinking the same thing." Hungary called back. She and Austria started forward, as well.

"What are we going to do, Ludwig? What if we don't find something that works? How can we make it out?"

"Well." Germany looked around the area. "I suppose we walk."

"Ou-out in the-the open?"

"If need be. Though I do hope it doesn't come to that."

They finally came across a camper that didn't seem as if it was too far damaged. He whistled for the others, and Hungary and Austria rushed over. "Hungary, check the inside. Austria, check underneath. Italy... come with me." They went to their designated assignments, as Germany rounded the front to open the hood. He checked the fuel and water levels, as well as the engine. "Everything seems to be operational. How's the undercarriage?"

Austria got to his feet, dusting off the front of his suit. "Nothing seems to be broken."

There was a shot inside the camper, and the three nations started to run in, when a body went flying out the door. Italy yelped, jumping behind Germany. Hungary leaned out the door. "Just one. It's clear now." She stated cheerfully, pulling back in. They followed, glancing around the small area. There was what looked like a bed, and a small table in the back, as well as a curtain, most likely blocking off another room.

Germany jumped into the front seat. Thankfully, there was a key still in the ignition. They must have had to run in a hurry. "Cross your fingers." He added to Italy as he climbed into the passenger seat. He turned the key, breathing a sigh of relief at the sound of it turning over. "Alright, everyone, settle in."

The road was a bit clearer, in this area, but there were still a few cars littering the road. Course, it didn't cause that big of a hindrance, since the camper could just shove them out of the way. They started down the road, when Hungary suddenly gasped. "Look over there."

They glanced around to see she was pointing out the window. Italy jumped up, pressing his face against his window. "It's people. Living people. Ludwig, go that way!"

Germany whipped his head around to see where they indicated. There was indeed what appeared to be some kind of large bike kicking up dust. There had to be someone driving it. The other vehicle was off-road, so he had to drive forward enough to get away from the guard rail, and followed.

It was going rather fast, but they were at least able to keep track of where it was going. Their vehicle bounced precariously on the rocky terrain. Nearly threatening to tip them. Germany instructed them to hold on to something, and the three other nations clung to whatever they could find, for dear life.

After a while, they started to close in on an air-force base, pulling into a hanger. When the two vehicles finally came to a stop, England fell from the back of the snowmobile. They eyed this new intrusion suspiciously. "Who's there?"

Italy slid out of the car, and ran over to them. "Big brother." He exclaimed when he reached France. "You're okay. And Ivan, and." He paused when he saw the glare coming towards him from Belarus. "Hi."

"Where did you two come from?" England asked Germany.

"Four." Germany motioned back to the camper as Austria and Hungary climbed out. "We just got out of my house, and saw you up ahead. We figured it meant life, and followed."

"Sir, we have a ride for you." Lithuania commented, walking up to the group.

"Ride?" Austria asked, walking up next to Germany. "To where?"

"We got a call from Matthew." England elaborated. "He gave us his location and said they needed help."

Germany's face dropped slightly. "You're going over to North America, alone?"

"Well. The three of us."

"Actually, it's good that you are here." Russia exclaimed, making his way over. "We will need a safe location to return to. So, while we are retrieving Matvy and Alaska-"

"And Alfred." England interjected.

Russia paused briefly. "If he is found. Either way, while we are away, you can be securing a safe-house for us to return to."

(Wait, doesn't anyone care about Cuba?)

"Hold on. What do you mean, 'if he is found'?" England cried, squaring off against Russia. "We have to find him."

Russia took a deep breath, turning his attention directly toward England, with a solid scowl. "Depending on the full extent of the situation, we can look for Jones, but I am not risking my life for him. The only reason I am even assisting Matvy is because he has a location."

England scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Of course. I suppose the fact that he has Alaska with him means nothing to you."

Russia didn't respond. He just smiled sweetly.

England growled, from that mocking look. Why was nobody listening to him.

"Don't start up, Kirkland." France interjected, standing between them. "If he is going to help, then does his motives truly matter?"

England cocked a brow at him. "Well, yes. They do, in a sense."

"Honestly, I don't. Not as long as we have a way over there to help. It'd be best, for all of us, if you were to just bite your tongue, and take what you can get." France turned to see Russia was already heading off the the helicopter, and followed. England started to say something, but bit his lip. In an odd way, France was right, but he didn't like it. "Of course you don't care." He growled, softly, his head falling. "You know where your son is."

"You'd better hurry. There's no telling how quickly these things will spread." England looked up to see Germany standing next to him. He flushed, wondering if he had heard him. "We could use your help. The three of us alone, might not be enough."

Germany shook his head. "Braginski's right. The most important thing for us to do right now is to secure a location for us to figure out what we're going to do about this. And for that, we will need as much man power as we can get, here." Germany started undoing the buckle around his waist. "Though, I can let you take this." He pulled the flame thrower from his back, and slid it over England's shoulders. "Perhaps it can let you expand your search."

England stared agape at the offer. "Won't you need this?"

"I have two... or rather Hungary has my other." Germany's hand fell down on his shoulder. "Just be careful not to fry the living."

England smiled. "Thank you."

After a quick demonstration of how to operate the flame thrower, England made his way over to where France and Russia were waiting next to a helicopter. The Baltic brothers had even secured walkies for them to be able to communicate back with the group. After a brief discussion of battle plans, the three nations clambered into the copter and took off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-edited- 07-27-2012 Not much I can say about this one cept... I fixed stuff?
> 
> Austria is to Germany as Canada is to America. (And America is apparently China's Mexico... I dunno, Russia said it. Something about exports) The moment i found out some German brigade (Or whatsit) had flamethrowers, i knew they had to be in this story, and Italy is a bit too fun too. Apparently Canada doesn't see him as being that panicky, but i think she's been watching too much Hetaoni. The boy's a bloody Gryffindor in that, for Pete's sake.


	7. Chapter 7

"Clear out!" America cried, over the heads of the surrounding zombies. He watched as Mexico took off, catching the desperate hesitation in his twin's eye, before Cuba forced him out of range. This was stupid, and he knew it. He'd seen far too many horror movies to know that he shouldn't be on this side of the mob, but if his plan panned out, maybe he could follow them towards the fort.

Once he was certain the area was clear America cocked the machine gun, in his hands, and plowed down the surrounding horde, catching more as they spun around to see what was causing the ruckus. America cleared out a path, and bolted through the group, swinging the gun around to try and take out any stragglers. Once he'd cleared the mob, America set off at a dead run towards the fort. He had gotten a good ways down the street, when he ran smack into one of the undead monsters.

He yelped, a gnarled hand clamping onto his wrist. A brief moment's panic, and America hitched up his gun and blew it away, his feet carrying him backwards. Several more had made their way out, asking to be mowed down as well. Unfortunately, the panicked nation was caught with a very disturbing sound. A sort of chink, coming from the gun in his hands. The machine gun had jammed, and America fought to try and clear it. His panic rising, as the numbers increased, he backed up into the stone wall.

America's eyes continued to snap between the gun and the zombies, his fingers fumbling more as his panic grew. He was even starting to curse himself for his fluster. There was never a time when he could remember letting panic take control of him. Just these monsters terrified him in ways no other warrior or soldier could ever dare to match.

He resorted to knocking them all off, in a desperate attempt to buy him some time. The contradiction of this tactic was that he could no longer work on the jam. A hand wrapped fully around America's upper arm, causing him to scream again as he was lifted upwards. Blue eyes snapped around in desperation until he was finally lifted up to grasp onto the ladder of an overhanging fire escape. Cuba pulled himself back up to get a better grip, seeing as he was hanging from his knees to reach the other nation.

America panted, clinging to the ladder for dear life. His eyes shot down to the zombies, then back up to Cuba who had climbed on up to a more stable area. "You." He gasped between pants. "You saved me?"

"There's a first time for everything." Cuba commented, holding a hand down to help him on up. America stared at the offer, still panicked and baffled, before finally taking it. "That's amazing. Why would you do such a thing?"

"An eye for an eye. You saved me. Now, come on." He turned on him and climbed higher up the fire escape.

America glanced back down at the mob below, his breathing beginning to level out. This was ridiculous. There wasn't nearly this many when he had woken up, in his own home. He climbed up, after Cuba, catching quick glimpses of the gnarled hands desperately trying to grab hold of the ladder. Reaching the roof, America spun back to look down over the edge.

"Stop dawdling, and come on!" Cuba shouted, waving back from the entrance to the stairwell.

"Hold on!" America cried, running towards him. "We don't know what's down there. We could be running into another ambush."

"We have to get down, somehow." He threw the door open, and started down the stairs, America following behind, both with guns held at the ready. "Besides, I circled the building, and everything was locked up tight. There's no way those things could get in."

Even with that vote of confidence, the two nations still retained the tension and urgency as they descended the stairs. Cuba grasped onto the door, at the bottom, and stopped. He chanced a quick glance back at his current partner, who held his gun tighter, and nodded. Turning back toward the door, Cuba gently pried it open and glanced around. "It's clear." He started out, and America pushed through the door, holding his rifle up to eye level as he gave another scan of the room.

"You're sure they can't get in?"

"Of course I am."

"Then, how are we going to get out? Didn't you say the building was surrounded."

"There's bound to be an opening somewhere."

They crept through the halls, keeping a close eye on each of the doors they passed through the area. The building was set up like a kind of hotel. Multiple rooms, equaling multiple paranoia for what could come out of each. The only thing that kept them from shooting up the rooms was the thought that maybe zombies couldn't open doors. The long halls soon turned into what looked like a lobby. A vast room, with high ceilings. Couches and chairs settled around small tables in the corners, as if set up in mini waiting rooms. America checked behind the front desk to verify that no one was there.

Cuba fired off a shot, startling him into raising his gun in the direction he had fired. "What is it!"

Cuba didn't have to answer, there was blood splattered around a bullet hole, in the window which made up the front wall. Not to mention the corpse laying on the ground. "D-did it get in?" America made his way forward to stand next to Cuba and saw it was laying on the outside. "What happened?"

"It was trying to get in."

Both their heads snapped up to look up at the glass to see more were rounding the corner to it. They started pushing and banging at the now fragile glass, as they saw the two nations standing within.

"Shit." America took a step back, holding his gun ready. "Now ya did it."

"Shut up! That thing was getting through the turn-stile. What did you expect me to do?"

"You said every entrance was locked up!"

"I did! I mean, it was."

America turned on him. "Then how the hell was it getting in!"

Cuba spun around, looming over America. "How the hell should I know! Why don't you ask the damn zombie!"

"I would, but it's dead now."

"What? Now you speak to these things?"

"We may be able to. Have you tried?"

"What the hell is the point of trying to talk to something that wants to eat you?"

"Maybe we could convince them not to eat us. Ever thought of that?"

"These things are out of their minds! You can't communicate with something that has no brain! Although I seem to keep trying with you!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

"If you can't even figure that out, then you've proven my point!"

"Well, I-" America's retaliation was cut off by the sound of glass breaking. Both nations backed off from their advancements on each other, heads snapping towards the noise. The zombies had managed to puncture a hole in the glass, and one of them was trying to climb through, breaking it away more and more as he did, not caring for the shards cutting up his skin.

"Perhaps now isn't the time for this." America stated, walking backwards, away from the glass. He ran for the opposite side of the lobby, and tried to wrench open the door. "It's locked!"

Cuba soon joined him, and started to try and help break it down. More smashing sounded behind them, the moaning growing steadily louder and, unless their minds were playing tricks on them, hungrier. The glass then gave way, and one by one (though not quite as orderly) the zombies filed through the hole. "Aw, fuck it." Cuba stepped back and blew away the lock. The door swung open, and the two nations bolted through the halls, coming to another stair well. America hit the door first, exiting into a blaze of bright sunlight. Once his eyes had adjusted to the new light, he saw that they were surrounded again. He jumped back, falling against Cuba, who grabbed his arm and dragged him back through the door.

America clung to the handle, dropping his head against the door. "Not that way."

"Not that way either." Cuba was holding his gun up to the steady mob stumbling down the hallway, easily opening the lock-less door.

"FUCKFUCKFUCK!" America exclaimed as they started up the stairs, back towards the roof. "Y'know, these damn things are causing me to contradict everything I ever learned through watching horror movies."

"This isn't a God damn movie!" Cuba shouted in frustration.

"I know that, but movies can be logical teaching tools."

"Will you shut up!"

They burst through the door, up to the roof... or at least they would, if there had been a door.

"Fuck." America stood at the entrance, standing guard to shoot down any that had come through. Cuba scanned the area. There had to be some way to get to that damn fort. "Jones!"

"What?" America gave a quick glance in his direction, still keeping an eye on the stairwell.

"Think you can make that?"

Given the brief state of peace, America fully turned to see where Cuba was indicating. The other nation was pointing off to the next roof. America shot down a couple more, before darting over. He looked over the edge to check the drop first, then over to asses the distance. With another quick glance back to the zombies stumbling through the door, America set the rifle on his back, and started to back up a few feet. "I'm sure as hell gonna try." Taking a deep breath, America took off at a dead run, straight for the ledge.

He stepped up onto the side and pushed off as hard as he could. There was no way for him to physically reach the actual roof, but he threw his arms out and grasped onto the fire escape, pulling sharply on his deltoids. America cringed, then heard a sickening screech of metal. The force of his weight had started to dislodge the already unstable connectors of the fire escape. "Shit. Cuba wait!" He called, glancing back, but Cuba had already jumped.

"Fuck." Desperately America scrambled up to the roof. Securing his footing, he reached out and took hold of the fire escape. Cuba's weight hit it full on, fully dislodging it, and dragging America over the edge. They both screamed, but one of the lower connections seemed to hold well enough for them to not fully hit the ground.

It took some time for either of them to move, mostly fear for it falling anymore. "Well, now what?" America asked, glancing down to Cuba.

Cuba looked down to the ground. There was maybe a couple down there, which could be easily taken care of, but the fall didn't look very inviting. He inched closer to the nearest window, and glanced in. The glass was easily breakable, but from as far as he could see, each one was barred, or blocked off. "Who the hell bars windows on a fire escape?"

"Perhaps someone trying to keep zombies out."

"Pssht. It's still idiotic."

"Hey, don't look at me. I didn't do it."

Cuba took in their situation further. "Maybe I can try to get up there to you." Slowly, Cuba started to make his way to the central structure, climbing on up, trying to keep his self as close to the wall as he could. About a flight down from America, the structure gave another ominous creak, and shuddered. Cuba froze, both nations meeting each other's gaze.

After a short while, Cuba finally spoke. "We need to make this thing less top heavy."

America glanced up to the roof, from where he had fallen to the other end. It was at least four yards up. "I don't think I can reach it, unless I jump." His gaze fell back towards Cuba. "And I don't know what the force of my jump could do."

"Just see if you can reach it."

America looked between the two, steeling himself to move. Slowly he inched closer to the wall, not really sure why he felt he had to cling to this unsteady steel structure. He made it to the other side, and reached up for the ledge. "I can't quite reach." Feeling like this thing could fall at any second, America climbed gently onto the bar. His legs shook from the unsteady bar as he slowly tried to straighten up.

A hand dropped against the wall, reaching the other up to try and grasp the ledge. It was just barely out of reach. "Damn it." He had just pushed himself up onto his toes, when the stairs gave another shudder, pushing it further away from the wall.

America yelped, when his foot slipped, and he fell, wedging himself brutally between the wall and one of the lower connections. His brain swam for a bit, before he could finally lift his head to look around.

"Hey!"

"Wha?"

"You alright?"

"I-I think so." America started to push himself up, realizing he had cut his leg on something. "Fuck man, why?" He scrambled in further, clutching to the bar, panting. The structure creaked again, daring either of them to move. As if it knew they were considering it, more connections broke, and the fire escape fell into the opposite wall, forming a bridge to the other building. Being that he hadn't made a firm grasp, the impact caused Cuba to tumble over the edge. He grasped desperately for the metal, but it slid right through his fingers.

"CUBA!" America reached out for him, but he was too far out of reach.

A sickening crunch sounded from where he landed. America shook, staring down at him in shock. The zombies that were in the alley noticed him, and started making their way over. His eyes shooting back to Cuba, he realized he was moving. "Aw, man." America made his way down the fire escape as quickly as he could. A couple sets up, he jumped off, landing right on top of one of the zombies, slamming the barrel of his hand gun into it's head, and kicked the other.

There was a ping in his calf, where he forgot he now harbored a deep gash, but he made his way over to Cuba, falling to his knees next to him. "Hold on, now." He turned Cuba over, onto his back. His right arm jutted out at an obscure angle, and part of his skull was crushed in. "Aww, fuck."

As if responding to the stench of blood, some more of the zombies started to round to corner toward them. America growled, starting to rip off the bottom of his shirt. "Hold on, Cuba. Were're gonna get out of here." He started wrapping the fabric around his head, causing it to be instantly coated with blood. "Fuck." His eyes darted between Cuba and the zombies. Getting the wrapping tied as best he could, America grabbed one of Cuba's arms, and pulled him onto his back. He tried to ignore the twinge in his leg, pushing himself up to stand under the dead weight on his back.

Stumbling a bit, he finally managed to get up to a steady pace, heading back the other way, but they were easily gaining. Also, it didn't help that the other side was a dead in. America bit back a panicked growl, his eyes shooting to every possible exit, but the only way he could see out was to get back to the fire escape. He reached up for the over hanging ladder, unable to get very high, with Cuba on his back.

America's eyes flicked at high speed between the fire escape, the zombies, and even back towards the dead end. "Aww, come on." He growled at himself, reaching up for the ladder.

"Am-ica." Cuba moaned softly. "Put me down."

"What? You've got to be joking."

"No." He shook his head, or at least he would if he had the ability to move, but all Cuba could muster was to breath. "I'm as goo-as-ead. Leave... me."

"I can't do that." America whined, feeling his knees buckle. "A hero can't leave anyone behind. Not even you, Cuba."

"Shut up with that hero bullshit." Cuba stated as firmly as he could, through his slur, but there was a note of amusement in his voice. "Take a page from me, and save your own skin."

"Ahh, but..." He started, eyes fixed on the zombies coming towards him.

Cuba managed to muster up enough of his strength to push back so that America had no choice but to drop him, even if he fell too. "What the hell?" Cuba reached up a hand to try and push him, but all he was able to do was nudge America's arm. "Don't make me... feel like-like shit... for... y- just go."

America was stuck dumb, his eyes narrowing on the zombies. "But-I-uh... Fuck!" Having to make a last ditch decision, America sprinted to the fire escape, and jumped up to grab the ladder. A few hands reached up for him, dragging their gnarled fingers against his pant leg. He climbed up a ways, seeing as most gave up on him, and started heading for Cuba.

America watched them close in on his current partner, his fingers closing around the pistol on his hip. An aggravated tear slid down his cheek as he lined up his shot. "I'm sorry, my friend." He fired, nailing Cuba straight through the brain, killing him instantly.

Word must spread fast through the zombie grapevine, cause more came in to feast, a larger group trying to reach America. America ignored them, not wanting to see them eating Cuba.

Quickly patching up his leg, America climbed up higher, until he reached where it was no longer holding on, and tried to see how high he could make it. Using the more stable contact against the other building, America backed up against the opposite wall. He ran and jumped, reaching as far as he could. Unfortunately, he missed the top most ledge of the wall, but caught one of the windowsills. America pulled himself until he was standing on the ledge on top of the window. He had to jump again, but he finally reached the roof, and pulled himself up.

America slumped against the wall, hiding his hand in his face. "Now what?"

As if for some kind of response, America heard a sound starting to slowly fade in through the city. He sat there in a daze, trying to decipher why he recognized that sound. Finally it hit him, and his head shot up, scanning the sky until he saw what was slowing becoming a helicopter. He screamed from relief, running to the edge closest to the oncoming copter. "HEY! DOWN HERE!"

The helicopter grew steady closer, until it was sailing right over him. America waved his hands frantically, calling at the top of his lungs for it to notice him... but the copter just flew right on over. "What? NO!" America followed it as far as he could, on the roof. "NO COME BACK!" He took out his rifle, and started shooting toward the sky, being careful not to hit his only means of escape. It kept going.

America slumped onto the roof. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck." In the near distance, the helicopter started to descend. America scrambled to his feet, watching it more closely. It was heading to the fort. "Matty must have called for help! Hell yea!" He punched the air, then glanced around the roof. "Now, how the hell am I getting over there? There's no way I'm making that jump, again."

His attention fell on what looked like pieces of lumber, and he went over to check it out. Digging through the wood, there wasn't really all that much to work with. Most of the boards were rotten, but there was one long piece that could potentially be helpful, even if it was rather thin.

He held it in his hands, and made his way back over to the side, as the helicopter's engines started to shut down. America glanced down at the ground, taking in the factors of each length, as best he could. He took a stabling breath, backing up a bit. "Alright, Olympic training. Don't fail me now."

America rushed towards the ledge, jamming the end of the lumber into the edge of the wall, and pole-vaulted over to the next roof. He landed hard on his injured leg, and buckled a bit, but he made it. "Fuck yea!" Without wanting to waste anymore time, America turned to the next roof. "Hold up, Matty. I'm comin'."

He easily cleared the next few roofs, but apparently there were limits. He wasn't fully aware of the stress he was putting on the piece of wood. Two roofs away, five seemed to be it's limit. Mid air, the stick broke in half, dropping America down to the concrete alley below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: o/ DING DONG, THE CUBAN'S DEAD o/... wait... aw i just made myself sad. I kinda liked writing Cuba. I was turning him and America into France and England. And they're fun too. WHY DOES EVERYONE I LOVE DIE! Not that i actually liked Cuba, but I've been running into that a lot lately. it's my curse... plus i'm writing this... and... killing things... i don't know if i should have this kind of power... oh well, I'm America. If there's anything i know, it's how to deal with power D MWAHAHA
> 
> does the fact that i enjoy tormenting America make me a masochist?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-edited: 07-27-2012
> 
> THERE, CANADIA! HAPPY! I was just going to have them be forced to leave America behind, and Alaska was gonna run off and find him, but Canada keeps being all like, 'where's America? What happened to America? Don't kill America! There's no way they'd get me to leave without you!' SO FINE! Canada's all stubborn, and they find him. (And Iggy got to use his new toy) WOO! but they're not going to get away that easily. MWAHAHA FUEL PHYSICS!
> 
> oh hey, check it out... that's all i have LATER BITCHES!

It felt like forever since Canada had made contact with Russia. He sat curled in the small tank, with Alaska resting by his feet. They said they would call when they were close, for his exact position. Here's hoping the power holds out in this thing. There wasn't any sounds outside. The scraping had long since withered away. Canada highly hoped they eventually just got bored, or even forgot he was in here. He'd hate to think what would happen if these things were actually getting smarter.

With a small whine, Alaska sat up, rubbing her paw against Canada's arm. Canada gave the dog a weak smile, rubbing behind her ears as she lay her head in his lap. "Yea, I'm worried about him too."

There was a sudden screech from the radio, and a voice started to ring through it clearly. "Matthieu? Matthieu, are you there?"

His heart leaping into his throat, Canada scooped it up, without giving much thought, and cried, "Papa!?"

"Matthieu!?" The voice responded, sounding just as relieved. "Mon Dieu, it really is you. Are you alright?"

"Y-yes. I'm fine."

"Good. Listen, we're coming to get you, but we need to know exactly where you are."

"Uh, I uh,we? Y-yea, of course. I'm up at Fort Pleasant, down in Ontario. I took refuge in one of the tanks in a hanger."

"What is the situation around you?"

"Uh." Canada glanced at the side of the tank, as if he could see through it. "I-I'm not sure. I've been in here for a while now. Things seem to have quieted down, but I can check real quick."

"Ok, just be careful."

Canada clung to the radio, as if he'd lose France if he let go. Alaska barked when he opened the door, and he shushed her. The husky whined, laying her head down. Canada slowly peered from the top of the tank, scanning the area. He sighed, bringing the radio back up to his lips and whispered, "The numbers seemed to have decrease, but there's quite a few still around."

A thick Russian accent said something on the other side, but Canada couldn't hear what he said. "Is there anywhere safe, where we could see you?" France continued, most likely translating for Russia.

Canada glanced around again, his eyes flicking up to the fort.

"Matthieu?"

"I believe there's a Helipad on top of the fort."

"Can you get there, safely?"

Canada's gaze flicked around to the shambling zombies. One of their heads swiveled towards him, but he ignored it, his eyes narrowing in determination. "I'm sure as hell going to try. How close are you?"

"Very. You should be able to see us soon."

"Can you see if you can find Alfred?" Canada glanced back to the city. "We split up a while ago, and I'm getting worried."

There was a small conversation on the other side, jointed with a rather aggravated British accent.

"Francis?"

France sighed. "We can check, but if we can't see him, then I don't know what we're going to do."

Canada slumped back into the tank, closing the lid. "Can you at least try?"

"We'll definitely try."

Alaska whimpered into the radio, as if she was begging them to try too.

"We will meet you at the roof, just try to be careful."

Canada nodded. "I will."

There was a brief shuffling, and England's voice came through the line. "And don't worry. We're not going to leave without Alfred."

Canada smiled. He wasn't quite clear of the possibility, but was relieved to hear that someone on the other side was worried as well. "Thanks, Arthur."

They sorted out battle plans for a bit longer, until Canada could finally hear the helicopter coming over the horizon. "I can hear you."

"Good, because we're almost there."

"Ok. I'm going to head up now."

"Be careful, Matthew."

"See you soon."

Canada slid the radio back in place, and pushed open the lid again. He wrapped Alaska's leash in his hand, scanning the area. A few stray zombies, but nothing he couldn't handle. If he remembered correctly, there was a ladder leading up to the roof, just around the corner. He should be able to make it there, no problem.

"Come on, girl, and be quiet." Canada whispered down to Alaska as they climbed out, and slowly slid down the side of the tank. He pulled the whimpering dog along, her head down. Canada moved between the barracks, careful to try and stay hidden. Wanting as little time out in the open as possible. Fortunately, the sound of the helicopter was growing steadily louder, diverting much of their attention.

Canada picked up his step, rounding the corner, and running right smack into one. He gasped, and knocked it's head in with the lead pipe, still in his hands. There were more, but they were distanced enough to where he should be able to run past. With the ladder in sight, Canada sprinted for it, ignoring the shambling pursuers, and the pulsing ache in his feet. He managed to lift Alaska under one arm and started to climb. The dog was thrown up first, soon followed by Canada. Canada panted, glancing back down at the hands scrambling to grasp hold of the ladder and climb up. There were a few up on the roof, and Canada felt sick. Could they really climb the ladder?

He batted them easily away, the helicopter growing a lot louder. He looked up in time to see them over head.

Canada waved both arms, but one of them was grabbed, a set of teeth going for his wrist. He didn't even have time to realize what had him long enough to be scared before a shot could be heard over the sound of the helicopter. He looked up to see France hanging out of the door, a smoking rifle in his hands. The helicopter landed, and France ran out, throwing his arms around him. "Oh, Matthieu. I was so worried." He had to yell, even though his head was right in Canada's ear, over the sound of the blades.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Canada cried, pushing him back. "Did you find him?"

France had a brief look of, 'who?' on his face before realization dawned on him. "Oh. No." He started to lead Canada back to the helicopter, both having to hold their whipping hair out of their face. "Arthur thought he saw him, but we're going to have to go back and pick him up."

They climbed into the helicopter, and Russia started it up again, rising into the air. England threw his arms around Canada as well, from where he was sitting in the back. "You two are such a pain."

Canada spun around to him. "Where did you see, Alfred?"

England smiled. This boy really had a one-tracked mind. He jumped to the window, pointing off into the distance. "He was on that roof, but who knows if he's still there." He gave a small glare to Russia. "If somebody had turned around."

"Is not so easy to turn the helicopter in this place. If you would like to be doing the driving, then be my guest."

"Enough." Canada snapped, not wanting to hear any more arguing. "Let's just see if he's still there." They scanned the rooftops, but there was no sign of the overzealous nation.

Canada's heart sank. "He's not there. He's not on any of the roofs." He turned to England, in desperation. "Are you sure that's where you saw him?"

England nodded. "Positive."

"Perhaps he tried to follow." France offered.

"Then where is he?" Canada cried, scanning everything within eye sight.

"We can't stay here for much longer. We only have the limited fuel." Russia chimed in.

Canada rounded on him, his eyes burning. "I'm not leaving without my brother!"

"Matvey, look at those numbers." Russia continued, glancing out the window. "If we have not found Jones already, he is most likely dead."

"HE'S NOT DEAD!" Canada shrieked. "Alfred is stronger than those brainless things. He's not just going to let them kill him."

"There is strength in numbers." France offered, placing a hand on Canada's shoulder. "And I hate to say it, but they could have him beat in numbers."

Tears traced down Canada's face, and he looked sideways at England, who looked just as lost as he felt, his eyes frantically scanning the terrain.

"We can not stop." Russia continued. "I am afraid we have to leave Jones behind, if we are to make it back."

Canada closed his eyes, then moved to open the door. A harsh wind ripped through the helicopter, nearly knocking off Russia's control. "What are you doing?"

"If you're leaving Alfred, then you're leaving me." Canada threw out the rope ladder, then started to climb out.

"Are you crazy!? You're the reason we came here."

"I already told you, I'm not leaving without him, even if it is with a corpse." Canada slid down the ladder, trying to hide how much he choked on saying that. A brief hesitation, and England started down after him. He'd borrowed a new toy from Germany, and God willing he was going to put it to good use.

Russia groaned in annoyance. Canada was getting just as stubborn as his twin. Not wanting to take the chance that Canada might jump, he pulled in lower. "You two better be right."

France was hanging out of the door, watching them. "They are motioning to something on the ground. Lower them down."

Russia growled, but pulled in lower.

Canada jumped from the ladder, a few feet up. He hit the ground and stumbled, but managed to get his footing well enough to run over to where there was a small group of zombies chewing on something. Canada held his pipe higher, and nailed one in the back of the head. He knocked a couple more down, trying to get a good look at whatever they had been eating. A few shots rang out, killing the others as England made his way over.

Canada finally looked down at their meal, his stomach churning. The figure was covered in blood, nearly every inch of his skin torn to shreds. Intestines were hanging from his torso, the stomach acid smoking against the flesh. The only comfort Canada could take was that this figure was too broad to be America, but that didn't stop him from having to turn away from the body and retching on the asphalt.

England grimaced, holding a hand over his nose. "Is that Cuba?"

"Used to be." Canada puked again, and it took England everything he had to keep from doing the same. Instead, he tore his eyes away from it, putting a hand on the younger nation's back.

"I'm ok?" Canada responded, spitting out the last bit still in his mouth. He brushed the tears from his face. Cuba was the last one with America. He had to be here somewhere. "ALFRED!" Canada straightened up, shouting to the sky, his voice cracking. "ALFRED, WHERE ARE YOU!?"

England was stunned by Canada's desperation. He never knew his voice could reach this volume.

The sound of France continuing to snipe for them caught there attention to the zombies that were starting to round the corner.

"Come on." England grabbed Canada's arm, and they started to head from the alley. He hitched up the flame thrower, and mowed down the zombies in the entrance. The two nations rounded the corner and bolted. "How the hell are we going to find him?"

"We'll find him, we have to. Just make sure you don't burn him up with that thing." Suddenly, Canada froze. His attention diverted down the next alleyway. An odd ping had hit him in the chest, and he could have sworn he heard someone calling his name.

England skidded to a halt. "Matthew? What is it?"

Canada wasn't listening. "Alfred?" He bolted down the alley. "This way." He called back, and England followed. "Why this way?"

"If he was heading towards the fort, he might be somewhere in this direction. Just listen for shooting or something."

England had seemed to have taken it upon himself to clear out most of the zombies in his way. At least the ones who weren't stupid enough to get in Canada's way.

A ways down, Canada was starting to get panicked. He didn't see any sign of his twin, and the fort was coming into sight again. His eyes flicked down each adjacent alley, until finally something caught his eye. Two zombies crouched over something, a horribly familiar boot sticking out from under one of their legs. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" He screamed, trying to divert their attention. Both heads looked up at him, blood coating their mouths. Desperate, Canada smashed in their skulls. He dropped to his knees next to America's body, tears drenching his face. "Alfred? Alfred, please, wake up." He tried to shake him awake, but America wasn't anywhere near conscious.

England ran up to them, dropping to his knees. "My God."

They checked over him to see if those two creatures had actually infected him. There was a deep gash in his left calf, and bruises all over his body. The wrapping around his head had fallen off, and was now hanging on an overhead ledge. The head wound was still bleeding. His left arm looked as if it were broken in a few places, and after touching the bruises on his ribs, it felt as though they were broken as well.

"Mon Dieu." Canada sobbed, starting to check his vitals. He had a very quick pulse, but his breathing was a bit low.

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know." Canada cried harder, trying to shake him awake again. "Last thing I saw, he was with Carlos. You don't think he's infected do you?"

England checked closer at the wounds. "He doesn't appear to have been bitten." Low moans drew their attention back to the entrance to the alley. England wasn't in any mood to play with these things. He stood up, squaring off, and barbequed them all. "Come on. We need to get back." He helped pull America onto Canada's back. Canada struggled a bit under the dead weight, but was soon able to adjust him into an easier position. It also helped him to be able to hear the steady breathing in his ear.

With England leading the way, and not having to worry about burning his former son, they followed the sound of the helicopter. "Hold on to the end of the ladder, and we'll pull you on up." England climbed the ladder as fast as he could. Canada secured one hand onto his twin, the other gripping tight onto the rope ladder. Once they started to pull him up, it was very difficult to hold onto both, but he was far too determined not to drop either.

Finally England and France helped America on in, while Canada climbed in, slamming the door shut.

"Can we go now?" Russia asked, still perturbed with their exploits.

England settled America into the back of the helicopter, where Alaska immediately rushed over to her master, with a joyous bark. When he didn't seem to respond, she whimpered, licking his face.

"Mon Dieu." France commented, staring back at America in fixed horror. "Is he going to be alright?"

"He should be." Canada squeezed in next to his brother, giving the husky, who now had her head laying in America's lap, a quick rub, before starting to clean up his wounds. "Nothing's killed him yet."

xXx

England had helped patch him up, putting his arm and ribs in a splint. They sat in silence for a while, each trying to decipher what to do next. A bit of turbulence had rocked America's head onto his twin's shoulder. Canada had fallen asleep as well, absentmindedly stroking his hair.

Both France and England found they had been watching them sleep far longer than they realized. It must have been a few hours, since they'd taken off. Outside of the window held nothing but ocean and sky.

England started to realize that America's eyes were slightly open. He blinked in confusion. "Alfred?"

France hummed, dragging his eyes away from the sleeping nations.

England leaned over the back of the seat, shaking him a bit. "Alfred, are you awake?"

Canada stirred, first blinking up at England, then down to America, who groaned, when he was moved. "Al?"

America took in a deep breath, which held an odd mix of pain, and a desire to stay asleep. His eyes squeezed closed, bringing a hand to his ribs. He curled up more into the seat, seeming like he was going to drift off again.

Canada brushed a hand through his hair. "Alfred?" He inquired softly. "Are you ok?"

"Hmm." He turned his face up towards him, but it took him a moment to actually open his eyes. Even longer for him to focus. "M-Mat-tie?"

Alaska barked, startling him more to wake up.

America's eyes snapped down to his dog. "Alaska?" He looked back up to his twin. "Mattie?" Finally seeming to register what had happened, America grabbed hold of Canada's arm, sitting up straighter. "Matt, you're alive!" He exclaimed, pulling Canada into a near crushing hug, sobbing into the top of his hair. "You're alive. I don't believe it."

Canada hugged him back, trying to be careful of his brother's injured ribs. "I could say the same for you, you big idiot."

Wanting some attention, Alaska crawled up, barking and trying to lick his face. "Puppy!" He cried, pulling his dog into a hug too. Soon his eyes landed up front. His grin spread. "Iggy! Francis! What are you two doing here?"

France smiled, but England had to turn around, trying to pretend he hadn't been concerned. "We came to get you."

America felt like he was going to cry harder. "You did? Really?" Through his excitement, a thought crossed his mind and he leaned up to see who was flying the helicopter. His grin spread in shock. "IVAN!? You too, really?"

"Yes, well, I don't intend to be making the habit out of it." He snorted, but couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as he shook his head. "Next time you save your own ass."

America really did cry harder. "You guys are the best. I don't even know what to say." He tried to dry his face, becoming briefly aware of how much his ribs hurt. Suddenly, something seemed to occur to him. "Wait a minute." "I thought I was really going to die. He looked around the area. Someone else was supposed to be here. "Where's Paco?"

Canada's head lowered. "He didn't make it."

The color drained from America's face, as he turned to him. "What?"

"The fort was already overrun. We didn't see it coming."

America closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hand. "Shit."

Canada laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Alfred."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." His hand gently fell on his stinging ribs. "Hw did you guys find me?"

"You can thank Matthieu for that." France offered, waving a hand back at him. "He is the one that found you."

Canada smiled at his twin, a soft blush finding his cheeks. "I wasn't about to leave you out there."

America smiled, throwing his good arm around him. "Thanks, Mattie. You're the best brother ever."

Canada's face pressed into his shoulder, feeling the urge to cry. "You'd do the same for me."

"Is best not to celebrate until we are safe."

All eyes turned up to Russia, who's gaze was fixed on the fuel gauge. "That little detour has taken up much fuel, and we are no where close to meeting the other nations."

England leaned up to see. The needle seemed to be just less that a quarter full. "Can you make it to land, at least?"

Russia nodded. "Perhaps, but it will be close.


	9. Chapter 9

They small group rode along in the bouncing camper, having fallen silent many hours ago. Both from exhaustion and hunger. Germany cast a sideways glance to Italy, who was sleeping soundly in the passenger seat. It was strange to think that just this morning he was screaming his head off in a panic. With their numbers expanded, he determined it'd be easier to look for Romano, and Italy instantly calmed down. Course, now that they were out here, he had no clue how they were going to find him. Perhaps going south was a safe bet, but who knows if Romano was even in his territory anymore. Germany sighed, his eyes barely focusing on the road. How had they even gotten into this mess.

"I'm hungry." He heard what he believed to be the youngest Baltic brother whine. Latvia's chin was resting on the small table, towards the back. His head fell sideways. "And I'm tired."

"We're all hungry, Rai." Estonia responded, from where he was sitting, with his head in his hands. "We just have to deal with it, until we find food."

"How long will that be?"

Estonia sighed, his head slumping onto the table. "I don't know."

Lithuania was sitting on the other side, on what was like a fold out couch that slid into the wall. He was staring at the ceiling, rolling the recent events around in his head. Everything seemed so sudden. He barely had time to even register what was going on, before they even started off. Unfortunately, the more he thought about it, the stronger his anxiety became. He'd never admit it in front of Russia, but he was really worried about America. Canada too, of course, but he still fondly remembered the time he spent living in America's house. He wasn't nearly as nervous there. It was a shame he and his brothers were dragged back to live with Russia.

"Hey."

A voice dragged his mind back into focus, and Lithuania found the very close face of Belarus staring down at him. Startled, he screamed, and fell from the couch.

Belarus frowned. "What do you scream like that?"

"Um." Lithuania straightened up, on his feet, trying to hide how much his heart was still racing. Somehow, Belarus wasn't nearly as frightening to him, as she was to her brother, but still... she had her moments. "You just started me, is all. Do you need something?"

As if to answer, her stomach started growling. She held a hand to the sound, her eyes saddening. "I have hunger."

"Oh." Lithuania's shoulders drooped. "I'm afraid I don't have any food." Unsure, he turned towards their driver. "Um, Mr. Germany?"

Somehow, Germany found it very odd to hear Lithuania address him that way. "Ja?"

"I was just um wondering, if there was any chance we could stop soon? Maybe to try and find food."

With this offer on the table, Germany's stomach started growling too. He sighed, glancing out the windows. "I don't really know where we can find food."

"Maybe there's some in one of these houses." They heard Italy say. Apparently he was now awake, and staring at the houses lining the street. Still curled up into a little ball.

Germany considered this option, and sighed again. It would technically be breaking and entering, but under these circumstances, he doubted he cared. "Ja, I suppose there might be. Alright, everyone." He called a bit louder. "We're checking the houses for food." He paused, sighing deeply in a way that seemed as though trying to suppress a yawn. "Then it might be a good idea to get some sleep." Germany pulled the vehicle over, and stood to check the group. Something among them was missing. "Where are Elizaveta unt Roderich?"

"I think they're in the back, asleep." Latvia chimed, suddenly sparked with excitement at the prospect of food.

"I see." Germany marched into the back of the camper, past the curtain to find the two nations tangled in each others arms, fast asleep on one of the beds. How they both managed to fit onto that tiny bed, he'd never know. Germany stepped forward and started shaking Hungary. "Liz, wake u-"

"YAH!" She instantly snapped up, and punched him square in the jaw. Hungary's eyes whipped around for some kind of attack, until she saw Germany sitting on the floor, holding a hand to his jaw. She gasped, hands snapping to her mouth. "Oops. I'm sorry, Mr. Germany. I thought maybe you were a zombie."

"Yes. Because obviously, he looks like one." Austria mocked, highly amused by the situation.

Germany growled, starting to stand. He was about to scorn her for making him bite his tongue, when Lithuania and Estonia flanked him on either side, assisting him to his feet. Again, this gesture was a bit strange, but he supposed they were now so ingrained with servitude that it came as second nature to them. "Um, thank you." Germany stated, awkwardly, seeming to startle them with his gratitude. The brother's grinned, and stepped out of the way. "Um, ja. Anyway." He turned his attention back to Hungary. "We are going to try to find food, and shelter for the night. I need you to assist me in securing a house."

"Oh, of course." Hungary slid from the bed, much to the displeasure of her husband, and saluted lightly. "Anything you say."

Germany was startled by this, as well. Why was everybody automatically assuming he was the leader?

Hungary quickly grabbed her arsenal and headed off the camper, to secure the way. When all was clear, she waved them on out. Hungary moved forward, entering the nearest house first to make sure there was nothing inside. "Ok." She called, hanging out the door. "There's nothing here."

The rest of the group stayed in the den, while Hungary and Germany (and with Germany, Italy) checked the rest of the house, for good measure.

"Germany." Italy whimpered, shaking. "Can't we please cut the light on?"

"No. These things seem to be able to sense where we are, by noise, unt other such things. Therefore, it is safe to say they might be able to follow light."

Italy whined, clinging tighter to his arm. "But it's so dark."

After a few thorough rounds, they decided that the house was clear. Germany instructed everyone to bar the doors and windows.

They all settled into the den, allowing Italy to cook, by the aide of candle-light. He was actually right, there was food in the house. Hungary was helping him/standing guard.

They sat in silence, wandering off in their own thoughts. Lithuania had moved the table seated in the center of a cluster of sofas, so that they could sit in the middle. Even with the only entrances into the house barred off, there was still a sense of uneasiness filling the small room. Belarus hadn't said much of anything, since her inquiry of food, and was now sitting against the couch, pouting. Austria's eyes were fixed on the small candle in the center of them, the low burning flame casting very ominous shadows on their features. "Do we know where we are going?" He finally asked, pulling his coat in tighter.

Germany tried to rub the tension from the back of his neck. "I managed to get a hold of Japan, and he says there doesn't seem to be any zombies in his home."

"Considering he's an island, we should be fairly safe there." Lithuania commented.

Estonia sighed. "At least, until they finally invade Japan as well."

"Yea, cause then we'll be trapped." Latvia stated a bit louder than they would have liked, both of his brother's hands snapping over his mouth.

Lithuania shushed him. "You have to keep your voice low, Latvia."

"Yea, if you're too loud, then this hiding place will be useless."

"How could they even invade an island anyway?" Austria asked.

Estonia shrugged. "Who knows? They managed to invade England, so there's still a chance they could reach Japan too."

"Apparently the zombie virus started near Mr. America's area, but it somehow spread to Europe." Lithuania stated with a sad sigh. "I do hope Mr. Russia and the others make it there in time."

"I'm sure they'll be fine." Italy beamed, expertly balancing plates along his arms. "It's not good to think anyone's dead, unless we're actually told about it. Besides, they're nations, and nations can't die."

"Good point." Latvia chimed, with a grin, taking his plate.

xXx

After they ate, the group fell asleep, alternating guard duty.

Germany sat up, watching over the small group. His mind wandering about the current situation. He was hoping that Japan would stay uninfected. Both for the fear of his friend, and the desire for a safe place to actually hide. He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. How were they possibly going to get out of this? Germany looked over his compatriots, his eyes finally landing on Italy. His gaze softened at how peaceful the small nation looked. He certainly did seem to take things in waves. Just moments ago, he was shivering with fear, and now, was calm as a leaf. Germany sighed, his smile fading. We can't fight forever. The enemies numbers were growing, and soon they would be completely overrun. Soon, all of them would be dead.

Germany dropped his head in his hands. Never before had he felt so helpless. It was all he could do to at least pretend he knew what he was doing, but honestly, if Japan hadn't tried to call him, he wouldn't have a clue.

A sharp static sound made him nearly jump out of his skin. Austria, Hungary, Belarus, and the Baltic States each jumped up as well, looking around, frantically... Italy slept on as if nothing had happened.

"Germany, are you there?"

The three brothers sidled closer together, far more frightened after hearing Russia's voice. Belarus, however perked up, crawling closer. "Big brother?"

Germany grabbed the walkie talkie from his belt, and pushed the receiver. "Germany, here. What is your location?"

"We managed to land on the outskirts of my homeland, but the helicopter is out of fuel. Have you made a safe-house yet?"

"Let me talk to brother." Belarus reached for the radio, but Germany pulled it further away. "Not yet. Italy wanted to find Romano, so we're looking around there for a bit. We are currently taking up refuge in Venice."

They heard Russia swear, and say something in Russian (to which only his underlings understood to be something about stubbornness.) "Tell Italy that-"

"Calm down, Russia." Germany interrupted him. He had already gone through this with Italy, but nothing he said seemed to deter him. "We are not far from his location, it is just a small pit stop. I came in contact with Japan, and he claims we can hide out there. He says once he has a secure location, he will give me directions. Why don't you start heading there? I can contact you when I have coordinates."

Lithuania crept closer, reaching a timid hand for the radio. "Um, may I?"

Germany looked up at him, for a bit, then handed it over. "Sure, knock yourself out."

Lithuania licked his lips, his hand shaking when he pushed the call button. "M-Mr. Russia? By any chance, did you happen to find them?"

They were met with silence on the other line.

Latvia and Estonia pulled in closer to their brother, barely containing Belarus from getting the radio. Lithuania took a deep breath, pressing the radio to his lips again. "I-I only ask b-because I thought maybe we could use m-more fire power. If w-we are going to h-have to f-f-fight."

"Dude, when did you start stuttering?"

Everyone jumped at the sound of America's voice, coupled with Russia grumbling something about thievery.

"Mr. America! You're alive!"

"Of course I am. Gonna take more than a bunch of brain suckers to take me down. Matty, Iggy and Francis are here too. Oh, and Ivan, but you already knew that... Dude, back off."

Lithuania's smile grew. "I'm glad to hear everyone's ok."

"Eh, not quite everyone." America sighed sadly. "There were a few casualties, but I guess that's unavoidable."

"Aww, I'm sorry. How is everyone else holding up?"

They could all almost see the huge grin and thumbs up, when America exclaimed, "Of course, we're all doing awesome. Ready to kick some major zombie ass."

"Oh please." There was a brief scrap, in which they figured Russia must have snatched the radio back. "You're dead on your feet."

They heard a distant 'pssht' from America, then he must have wandered off.

"Which frequency is Japan on?"

All eyes moved back to Germany, then Lithuania handed him back the radio. "Er, he's not. He called me on mein handy."

There was a tense silence on the other side. One in which nobody dared to say anything. Finally Russia spoke, in a low growl. "You have a mobile phone?"

"Um... yes."

"Why did you not inform us of this?"

"I did not think it was relevant. We had radios."

Russia just groaned. "Fine. Just let us know what Japan says as soon as you can."

"Ja, fine. Just make sure none of you get yourselves killed."

The radio went dead, without a response, and the small group was thrown into silence again.

"Well, it's good to hear they are all alright." Hungary finally stated. "Perhaps we should get some more sleep. Mr. Germany, I can take over guard duty, for you. You're going to need your rest." She stood up, and had forced him into her sleeping spot, before he had time to even try and object.

Germany had laid down, but he wasn't any where close to being able to fall asleep. He doubted he'd even be able to sleep until they at least had a more secure location. Maybe Russia was right. Perhaps they should just head on straight to Japan and forget about finding Romano. After a long time of just staring at the ceiling, he heard Italy whine nearby. Germany turned to look at his friend, to see he was curled in the fetal position. His face was scrunched, tears trickling from his eyes. "Ro-mano."

Germany sighed, placing an arm around Italy's shoulder, which the smaller nation instantly seemed to take as an offer to curl into him. "We'll find him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-edited: 07-27-2012 *phew* one major plot thread down. I pretty much had to rewrite this chapter. Well, most of it. Still a bit unsure about this end. For the most part, in this, I'm now going back in and editing out the accents. Fuck accents. Especially the French ones. I don't mind throwing in other languages though... cept Russian is trying to be a bitch. If only I could read cerelic (or however that's spelled). I also keep forgetting when to indicate a scene change. It might be a small change, but it's still a change.
> 
> I apparently can't have a balanced state of mind while I'm writing this one. Either, I've been uber hyper, or really tired, but I've come to the conclusion that this story is like a car wreck. I just can't stop. even when I'm asleep, I'm still writing it. leave me alone story, I have work to do. (and yes, I almost forgot Belarus was supposed to be there now. Ukraine might even be there, I just don't know any fucking more)


	10. Chapter 10

The five nations had spent the night in the helicopter, not trusting to attempt going outside. There may have been less infestation in Russia's home, but there was enough. Also, it was freaking cold out there.

America and Canada had curled up in the back, the later ending up on the floor of the helicopter. France and England had somehow ended up with France's head laying in England's lap, and England laying across his back. It sounds uncomfortable, but it's really not. Russia hadn't slept much. He was halfway between consciousness and sleep, just watching the soft wind blowing through the trees. The soft hazes of morning started to peer over the horizon.

"Everyone, wake up." He finally called, once the sun had fully risen. When he didn't get a response, Russia stood up, and knocked on England's head. "Time to wake up. We have to be moving, now."

England groaned, stirring a bit. "Why do we have to get up so early?"

"Is almost half to eight. You can sleep when we are safe."

Canada pushed himself up, moaning with a desire to not do what he was doing. He popped his back, and rubbed his sore neck. "I don't know if we're ever going to be safe."

"Well, safer than a helicopter." Russia opened the helicopter door and stepped out to scout the area. The sudden rush of wind fully stirred the other nations.

"Get off me, you bloody wanker!"

France smacked the British hands that were pushing him. "Oh please, as if I would want to be near any part of you." He snorted. "Especially never that area."

Canada sighed, rolling his eyes at them. "Alfred, wake up."

"Neh." America pulled his arms and legs in closer, trying to block out the wind.

Canada stood up on his knees, and shook him. "Come on now. The sooner we get to Japan's place, the sooner you can sleep."

"Mnn. Fine." He forced himself to sit up, still not yet opening his eyes.

Canada crawled up front, grabbed his pipe, and headed out to meet Russia. "You look exhausted. Didn't you get any sleep?"

Russia shook his head. "I thought it best to keep watch."

"Oh, well I'll take next watch, so you can rest."

Russia turned to Canada with one of his attempts at a warm smile. He pinched his cheek. "You are sweet."

"So which way is Japan from here?" France inquired, as he joined them, stretching his arms over his head.

"Due southish, I believe." England answered. "We're going to need some sort of water transport, eventually."

"Tssh, well that goes without saying."

"It'd be best if you keep your trap shut."

"I do not have to take orders from you, bossy pants."

Canada wandered away, ignoring their bickering, and leaned back into the helicopter. "Al, come on. We have to get going."

"I think something's wrong with Alaska."

"What?" Canada climbed in, leaning over the front seat. Alaska was curled up, with her head laying in America's lap, whimpering softly as he stroked her head. "She doesn't seem to be hurt. I wonder what's wrong."

Canada reached over and rubbed her ear. "Maybe she's just hungry."

America groaned. "Aren't we all?" He hooked the leash onto her collar. "Come on, girl." He managed to urge her to follow him, albeit a bit slowly.

The small group set out, everyone but Russia holding their arms tightly around them, against the wind. It wasn't terribly harsh, but was steady enough to be annoyingly cold. Not even the sun was helping.

"GAH it is far too cold, in this area." France whined. "I do not know how much longer I can stand this."

"Yea, dude, need I remind you that not all of us are dressed for this kind of weather." America called forward, seeing as he was only wearing a tank top and jeans, indicating his brother who was still in his pajamas. Canada shuddered, looking imploringly to Russia. "Is there somewhere nearby, for us to get supplies?"

"There is a mall rather close. We should be able to get what we need there."

They had to make their way through a small forest. It was difficult to try and work their way through the trees, and overgrowth, each of them fully expecting a zombie to pop out at them, from behind one of the trees. However, there was no sign of dead life anywhere.

Canada was wincing slightly, until finally, he caught his foot on a tree root, covered in stray leaves, and stumbled into the tree. He hissed, rubbing his foot, where the top of it was starting to bleed. "Aw, man."

"What's wro- DUDE!" America exclaimed. "Aw, shit! I forgot you didn't have shoes!"

"I-uh, i-it's ok. Really. I just tripped is all." He tried to screw up his bravest smile, but the truth is, he couldn't feel his toes. "No big deal."

America's shoulders slumped, kneeling next to him. "Don't even try it."

"Oh, Matthieu." France crooned, pulling out a handkerchief to wrap his foot. "Why did you not tell us? How can you possibly even walk in this condition?"

"It's not a condition. I'm just barefoot. I'm fine really."

"Come now, don't be silly. You can have my shoes."

Canada grabbed hold of America's arm, letting him help him up. He stepped over the branch, and away from France, waving his hands dismissively. "Now who's being silly. If you do that, then you won't have shoes."

France gave a rather glorious leap over to him, holding out a hand. "Then I shall carry you to our destination."

Canada's cheeks turned a bit green, taking a step back. "No, that's ok." He turned to Russia. "How much further?"

"Just on the other side of these woods."

They stared a bit, as he started off again. "And, how far is that?" Canada glanced back at France, with his all too inviting smile. "I think I'll take my chances."

America stepped up to walk along with him. "Are you sure you're ok? I'm a bit worried your feet are gonna freeze off."

"It's fine, I'm used to the cold."

"Pssht, I'm never gonna be used to this crap."

"Yes, well, as long as I keep moving, I should be- YAH." He stepped on what felt like a porcupine, stumbling face first into a bush.

"Whoa." America helped him up, trying not to laugh. "Ya, alright?"

Canada just sat on the ground, checking his foot. He winced as he moved to pluck the spurs out. "Yea."

"Mon Frere." France knelt next to him, plucking leaves from his hair. "Don't be stubborn."

With a final frustrated grunt, and a rather pathetic look to his twin (Who shrugged), Canada finally gave in, and climbed onto France's back. "Just for a little while."

America couldn't help but laugh at how awkward he looked, then was distracted by his dog whining, and no longer seeming to follow. "Hey, what's up?" Alaska was laying on the ground, her head settled between her paws. America sighed, kneeling down to rub her head. "Hold on, girl. We'll get some food soon." Only having one arm to work with, America managed to scoop Alaska up, her head and paws perched on his shoulder. "See, now you can help keep me warm." She woofed softly, not sure if it was an agreement, or scolding.

xXx

They continued to walk for who knows how long, taking periodic breaks. Finally, somewhere near dusk, the woods finally cleared. There was a small drop to a parking lot, the center of which held a large structure.

"Whoa, cool." America stated, kneeling down to give his dog toting arm a rest. "It's huge."

"We're sure to find supplies in there." Said England.

"Along with the occasional zombie." France indicated down at the shambling figures scattered amongst the parking lot.

"Can you put me down now?" Canada climbed down, taking in the situation. "There isn't many. Perhaps we can avoid them."

"Perhaps." Russia stated, matter-of-factly, heading down the slope. America scooped up his dog again, joining the others as they trudged after him.

The group ducked behind the cars littering the parking lot, slowly inching their way towards the mall. A few heads swung in their direction. Feeling increasingly uneasy, England started turning on the fuel in his flame-thrower. "They see us."

"Just ignore them. They are not too fast." Russia said a bit too calmly, as he marched out towards the next van.

France quivered, clinging tightly to his rifle. "How can you be so calm in this place?"

"You should never show the enemy the fear."

Canada peered around to see that some were starting to stumble in their direction. "They're not exactly enemies." Three pairs of eyes settled onto him in confusion. Canada shrugged. "Well, they're not exactly aware of what they're doing. They're more of an obstacle than anything else."

"Plus, I don't think these things even know we're afraid of them." America grunted, adjusting his grip on Alaska. He bolted after the group, trying to stick close to Canada since he was, for the most part, defenseless.

"They are getting closer." France held up his gun, ready to fire, if need be, facing backwards. "Perhaps they are smarter than we think."

England snorted, readying the flame-thrower. "Let's not jump to conclusions. They seem to be only running on basic instinct."

"Well, I do not care. I have no desire to become an hors d'oeuvres, for these shambling monstrosities."

"Will you two, shut it, we gotta problem." America inclined his head towards the closest door to them, bringing to their attention not only the large open space, but the zombies moving to block their way.

England just smirked. "Not a problem." He moved to the front of the pack, hitched up the flame thrower, and mowed them down with a huge wall of flame.

"Whoa, dude." America gaped, while Alaska whined in his ear, shuffling uncomfortably.

Russia rushed forward, cutting off the valve. "Do not be wasting the fuel. Come on." Leading the way, the others darted after Russia. "That's cool, man, I gotta get me one of those."

Russia quickly unlocked the door, and they ran inside.

A quick scan of the area, told them they were somewhere near the clothing department.

"Oh good." Heaved France. "We can get some warmer clothing. It is cold, even in here."

Alaska was whimpering even louder, her claws digging into America's shoulder. "Hey guys, I need to find somewhere for Alaska to lay down."

"We can make her a coat bed. Here." Wanting to give his twin a bit of a break, Canada took Alaska from him, much to her displeasure.

"Thanks, Bro."

They made their way to a section of what looked like winter coats, where America plucked a few from the racks, and made a little make-shift bed for Canada to lay her down. Alaska actually started growling, from being moved around so much. Confused, America dropped to his knees, stroking her head until she calmed down. "Hold on, girl. I'll get you some food."

"I'll look after her." Canada stated softly, stroking Alaska, as he settled onto his feet. He smiled up at his brother. "I need to try and get some feeling in my feet, anyway."

America smiled. "Alright." He stood, waving his hands to the other nations, calling, "Hey guys, I'm headin to the food court."

"I'm coming with you." France called, running over. "These clothes are rather bland anyway. I am hoping to find somewhere else."

America just shrugged, heading on out. "Suit yourself."

"Be careful." Canada called. "There could be some in here as well."

xXx

The two nations ventured into the main area, looking around the corridors. "This place is huge."

"Seriously. I wonder where the food court is." America's stomach growled its aggravation. "I'm starving."

"Look, there is a map." France made his way over to the layout, trying to locate the food... at least that's what they thought. "Ooh, there is a boutique. I am bound to find something nice in there."

"Dude, we're looking for food." America scolded, scanning the map. "We can worry about your clothes boner later."

France tssked, folding his arms in a huff. "Pardon moi, for not wanting our predicament to hinder my sense of style."

"Well, excuse me, Princess, but I think food's a bit more of a necessity than clothes. Come on." America snorted, smacking France in the arm. "It's over this way."

France rubbed the sore spot on his arm, reluctantly following. "You don't have to be such a brute."

xXx

"Dude, there's a McDonalds!" America cried, his face beaming in astonished excitement. "In Russia!" America grinned wickedly, running down the hall towards the fast food station. He leaned over the counter, looking towards the back. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

"There is no one here, you idiot."

"Eh, worth a shot." Dropping his good hand on the counter, America vaulted over and into the back of the small area. "There ain't much back here, but there should be enough to hold us over for a while."

"We can look in other places, you know."

"Sure go ahead."

There was the sound of a frier starting up, and France wandered off, examining the other locations. There were a few restaurants he had never seen before, (possibly factoring that they must have been Russian cuisine), a place that sold pizza, Chinese, and Japanese food, even a place that sold subs. "Hmm." France made his way to them, wondering if he could scrounge up some kind of food that would be able to hold up, during their journey. He jumped behind the counter, of the sub place, going over the ingredients, still under the glass. Without the proper refrigeration, this meat was not going to hold up, but if he get a cooler, and wrapped the meat to keep it fresh, along with more of the vegetables. Cheese might be good too, and there was a lot of good cheeses here. The bread already looked like it was wrapped fairly well too... at least the ones that weren't laying on the counter.

France opened the door to the back to investigate the storage units. There was a freezer, and rows upon rows of shelves with more bread. "This is very handy, for our needs, but there seems to be something rotten in here." He checked through the storage shelves for some kind of transport device. "Though there does not appear to by any way to carry this."

He rounded the corner, and tripped over something. France managed to stay up, spinning around to see what had tripped him. Instantly, his insides felt cold. There was a body laying against the shelves, most of her torso ripped apart. "Mon dieu." France cried, holding a hand to his mouth. The smell instantly grew worse upon his discovery, making him feel sick. "I guess I found what was rotting in here." He inched around the body, and darted from the small restaurant.

Suddenly desiring not to be alone, France made his way into the back of the McDonalds, following the smell of cooking beef. "Um, Alfred, is everything alright in here?"

"Yea, why?" America looked back, waving his spatula. His expression suddenly fell from the look of terror on France's face. "Dude, you look pale."

"I uh." France walked closer, wringing his hands. "I just saw a body, and was wondering if maybe you saw anything."

America immediately relaxed, sensing that his Allie was just spooked, and not in danger. "Nah. Can't say I've seen anything, like that. Burgers are almost done though." France looked over to examine the pile. "How did you make that many this fast?"

"Lots of practice."

"... Zat makes no sense."

"Sure it does."

France decided to just shake his head, not feeling up to pushing it. "I checked over one of the other restaurants, and there is a good bit of decent food we can take with us. If we can find something to transport it in."

"Oh, that's good." America scooped the last of the burgers into buns, just in time for there to be a ding. "Ding, fries are done." America sang, rushing over to the frier. This just raised more inquiry from France. "How the hell did the frier heat up that fast?"

"It was already on."

"It was?" France made his way over, watching America pull the baskets up. "That seems odd. Nothing else was running."

"They probably just needed to run out really fast. I sure as hell wouldn't worry about shutting them off, with zombies running at me."

"... Good point." A thought just occurred, making France suddenly felt very nervous. "Hold on... Are you sure it is safe to eat this?"

"Sure, why?"

France eyed the basket as America hitched it over the frier, to let the grease drain out. "I'm just thinking, that you don't know what this food has come into contact with."

"Oh that. Don't worry. I checked everything."

France eyed him skeptically. "You did?"

"Of course. I wasn't about to take a chance on us getting sick." He hitched up another basket, shaking it a bit to help the grease drip. "The fries and burgers were still sealed, in the freezer. The buns were wrapped tight, with no signs of disturbance. The grill was actually clean, and there was no signs of any foreign substance in the oil. Just a couple of fries." He finished up, grinning back at France. "I got this."

France was still unsure about that oil, but was actually impressed America considered that option.

"Alrighty." America didn't even bother with the little fry holders. He just found a huge tray and threw all the fries that would fit onto it, dropping many on the floor. "Well, here's my food." America spoke through a mouthful of fries, hiking up both trays. Fries and burgers. "What are you eating?"

France just gave him a deadpan look, inciting America to laugh at him. "Dude, I'm kidding. Let's go."

Hanging back a bit, from astonishment, France had to run up to catch him. "Have you thought that not everyone is going to want hamburgers?"

America stopped to think about that for a bit. "You think they might want cheese?"

France openly face palmed. "That is not what I-"

"You're right. We don't have that kind of time."

"I meant that the others might want other food."

"Oh... does it really matter, at this point? As long as it's food, right?"

"Well." France considered that statement for a moment.

"If you want something else, go for it, Dude." With that, America started back to meet with the other nations. France glanced back, remembering the body laying in the back room of the sub place. "Eh, a few hamburgers can't hurt." He stepped up his pace to catch up with America.

xXx

"I got burgers."

England rolled his eyes. He was sitting next to Canada, wrapped in a rather large parka. "Of course you do."

"Huh, where's Braginski?" America asked as he set down the two trays.

Canada didn't even hesitate to grab one of the hamburgers. "He went to raid the pharmacy." He took a huge bite, speaking again through a mouth-full. "He should be back soon."

"Hope he'll be ok. Francey-pants said he found a body."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. It's just down a ways." England stated, finally resolving that he didn't care what he was eating, and almost inhaling a burger. America lodged one into his mouth, plucking the meat from another, and waved it in front of Alaska's nose. She didn't seem to be interested. Taking out a bite, America pulled the burger out of his mouth. "Come on, girl. Eat up. I know it's a Russian burger, but they're pretty good."

Alaska's eyes flicked up to him, and she let out a small whine. America took another bite, laying down, and pet her head. "I need you to eat, honey."

"What is wrong with her?" France asked, somehow keeping the sound of full mouth from his voice.

"I don't know." America had lost all interest in eating himself, moving closer to pull Alaska into his lap. She gave a small whine for him moving her again. "She's never acted this way before."

"Maybe she's sick." Canada offered.

That answer didn't settle too well with America. "Yea, maybe." He leaned over to look into her eyes, ruffling her head. "You can't get sick on me, girl. I need you."

Alaska whined again. America pulled off small pieces of the meat, prying her mouth open. Once the food was forced into her muzzle, Alaska actually started chewing it up and swallowed. With a somewhat satisfied smile, America finished off the rest of his burger, and began alternating between feeding himself, and his dog. "There's bound to be a pet store in here somewhere. I'll go check and see if they have something that can help." He rubbed her head again. "Ok, girl?"

xXx

Russia joined them soon enough, holding arm fulls of first aid equipment. The small team properly dressed their wounds, and Canada finally slid on a very warm looking pair of snow boots lined with fur. Now that the cold had worn off, there was a sharp sting in his sore feet. The toes feeling like they were on the verge of frost bite. He smiled brightly, tapping the sides of the shoes together. "Much better."

America laughed at him, absently stroking the furry head in his lap. "Gotta enjoy the little things, I guess." The food was long gone, and the five had even split up the bread, from Alaska's dinner. Soon, America gently lifted her back onto her bed. "I'm gonna try and find a pet store."

"There is one just around two rights down." Russia stated, reaching a hand over to pet the dog.

"Cool, thanks." He started off, when Canada got up and followed. "I'll come too." He ran to catch up with his brother. "I don't think any of us should be alone, right now."

"Sounds good to me." He really didn't want to be alone, but wasn't about to admit it.

"We're going to move to the furniture store upstairs." Russia called after them. "Is good place to camp out for a while."

"Ok." Canada waved a hand back to them, having to run back out to catch up to America.

xXx

They found the pet store, easily enough, but it wasn't as welcoming as they might have liked. Most of the cages were flung open, and the ones that weren't had dead animals in them. Ones that actually looked like they had been crushed. There was broken glass littering the floor, coupled with dead fish. Some fish and reptiles were still alive in the cages, but not much else. "Eesh." America grimaced, looking through some of the shelves at the creepy crawlies. "Why anyone would want these for pets, is beyond me."

Canada looked further, watching the last few fish swimming about, along the back wall. "The poor things. I wonder how much longer they can live like this."

"Probably not for long." America finally located the shelves with the medication, and started to thumb through it. A little bit later, Canada stepped into the aisle, rubbing a chill from his arm. "Find anything?"

"Nah. It's mostly just stuff for joints, and flee control." He plucked a bottle from the shelf. "The closest I can find are vitamins."

"Couldn't hurt."

"I suppose. Maybe I could at least get some proper food, and something to carry her with."

"Don't get too much. We have to carry everything ourselves."

"I know. Course we could hot wire one of those cars out there."

Canada sauntered around, the chill in his arms increasing. "You can do that?"

"Of course I can."

"Heh. I used to think that was a delinquent skill, but now it's starting to sound more useful."

"It's easy, I can show ya if you want."

Canada managed to work his way closer to the far wall, looking through the broken glass cages. "Yea, maybe." Something in the room behind it caught his ear. His chest suddenly felt cold, and he backed away. "Um, Al?"

"Yea."

"I think maybe we should get out of-"

There was a gun fired from somewhere off in the distance, catching both of their attentions. "Was that Francis' gun?"

Canada turned back to the cages just in time to see two pairs of milky eyes watching him. With a loud bark, a couple of dogs jumped at him through the broken cages. Canada screamed, running back towards his twin. The two dogs snarled at them, inching closer, thick red drool running down their muzzles.

"HOLY SHIT!" America cried, grabbing Canada's arm, and bolted from the store. They slid on the tiled floor, with the sharpness of their turn, following the gun fire. Canada chanced a glance backwards. "Their gaining!"

"You've got to be kidding me." America grabbed at his pistol and shot the two dogs. He couldn't aim too well, with his left hand, and kept shoot their arms. It slowed them down a bit, but didn't come anywhere close to stopping them. Finally, his pistol clicked, and he swore at the empty barrel, sliding it back in his holster. They were easily able to outrun the two zombie dogs, and found an escalator. Just before they reached it, there were about four more human zombies running into their path. Fortunately, they were able to reach the escalator first, and swung around to run up it. It wasn't moving itself.

They had no clue where the furniture store was, but soon found the tail end of France, and followed him.

"Quickly!" Russia called to them, standing in the doorway of one of the stores. The moment they were all inside, Russia slammed the gate down, sealing them inside. It took a bit for the adrenaline to wear off, and longer for them to stop running.

"Was not expecting that." America panted, holding a hand to his chest. "I thought this place was locked."

"It was." Russia answered, walking towards them. "A few bodies must have been left inside, when the building was evacuated."

"Makes sense, I guess. Where's Alaska?"

"She is sleeping on the bed, back here."

America made his way back to the line of beds, and found Alaska sleeping on one of the futons. Her breathing was a bit harsh, but other than that she seemed to be alright. He sat down next to her, pulling her front half in his lap.

"You three can stay here. I'm going to help England check the area."

After what was essentially a couple well needed hours, the two nations returned, reporting that they had killed all undead things in the store. There were a few zombies at the gate, but it was thoroughly locked. It was uneasy to have them there, but none of them cared to waste anymore ammo.

The group went over a few battle plans, factoring that they should be safe there, until they heard word from Germany. There was a sporting goods store, to stock up on weapons, and they even devised a plan to get the supplies down to one of the vehicles in the parking lot.

"But how are we going to get through the zombies." France's eyes kept flicking to the growing numbers outside of the gate. "These are a lot faster than the ones we have previously encountered."

"I wasn't aware they could even run." England stated, shuttering. "All of the ones I've seen so far have either stumbled, or limped."

"There is a chance that they were just waking up. Perhaps they get slower, the longer they walk, or even feed."

"Could we stop talking about this?"

Everyone went quiet, all eyes turning to look at America, who had his head dropped in his hand, staring miserably down at Alaska. His other hand continued to stroke the whimpering husky in his lap. He had force fed her a few vitamins, but, not much to his surprise, nothing was happening.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds were the zombies still grunting, and shaking the gate. It was strange, for all of them, to see America so miserable, even more so with how quickly it seemed to happen.

Finally, Russia stood, making his way back toward the gate. A shink of metal, and one by one, the growling zombies fell silent. Russia soon returned, clapping his former rival on the shoulder. "Is late. We should be getting to sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-edited: 07-27-2012 Wow, I'm getting through these fairly fast. Which means one of two things... either there wasn't that much to change, on down the line, or they still suck, and I'm just missing it. Either way, I'm at least fixing my loose threads... so yay.
> 
> For future reference, Angland=England cause my fingers are derp and seem to want to keep hitting the a, for some reason. I've managed to catch them so far, but I'll inevitably miss one, so just a pre-warning. Now's the part where I saw I'm gonna stop writing, and get some sleep, but we all know that's not going to happen. The zombies are now haunting me, and forcing me to keep writing. I suppose that's good news for anyone still reading this POS


	11. Chapter 11

After a couple years of forced recon in space, (By his own boss.) Tonny finally returned to his home in North America. He landed a few parsecs away from America's house, but once he stepped out, his eagerness to head home was a bit stifled. Upon exiting the craft, an eerie feeling flooded into him. The streets weren't clouded with the normal bustle, and his eyes roamed anxiously for some kind of movement. Cars were abandoned on the side of the road. Wind gently blowing empty swing sets. It was as if everyone just disappeared into thin air, like in one of those alien abduction movies. (And no, the irony was not lost on him.) It just wasn't right.

America's house was further disturbing. At the very least, his home should have been the most uproarious. The nation knew Tonny would be returning around this time, he'd even sent him a message once he was closing in on the Earth's atmosphere. Sure he didn't respond, but there should be no reason why he shouldn't have gotten it. What was going on? America's home was always so lively. Typically blasting some kind of music, or power tools whirling in the garage. Hell he'd even welcome hearing America yelling at a game. At least barking from Alaska or Hawaii. Yes Tonny hated those stupid dogs, but they would be a refreshing break from what he was seeing now.

Tonny's eyes scanned the front yard to see shambles of America's hedges. They looked like they had been run over by a rather large vehicle. Also evident by the tire marks cutting through the grass.

Finally, Tonny's gaze landed on something that made his heart skip. A lump of brown leather, laying in the mud. The only reason he even spotted it was because of the large white 50 stitched into the back. The coat looked as though the right sleeve was almost torn off, and much of the bottom shredded. There was what could be dried blood splattered on various places, but it was difficult to be sure, through the mud.

Tonny's breathing kicked up. Something was definitely wrong. America loved this coat. He's had it for years, he'd never just abandon it like this. Something must have happened. Maybe America was attacked. What if he was hurt... or worse? Tonny wasn't one to cry, but he felt he might. Feeling the anxiety and fear spark up for his friend. He lifted his head and called out for America, twisting the torn leather in his hands. His senses heightened, ears straining to try and hear some kind of noise in the silence.

Soon he noticed something, and rushed up the stairs to the front porch. There was a note tacked to the front door. Tonny snatched it off, reading his friend's hurried writing. "DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR! Sorry I wasn't here to meet you, but the world's being over run by zombies. I've gone to find Canada, and meet with the other nations. Get off the planet, while you still can. Good-bye, my friend. -Al"

Tonny had to read the note a few times to try and make sense of it. There was no way. Zombies? He made his way over to peer in the window, cupping his hands around his eyes. Despite the sun shining in the windows, the interior was completely dark. There wasn't even any sign of these so called zombies. The phone started to ring, and Tonny glanced around to try and see into the den. After a bit, he heard England's voice screaming over the phone. "Alfred, enough of this charade. You answer this phone right now, or you're going to be sorry." There was a brief pause and he started yelling again, his calls soon fading into an almost pleading tone, more than a scolding, like he usually heard.

Tonny found he couldn't feel his legs. It seemed as if his entire body had gone numb, both from disbelief, and worry for his friend. He had seen enough movies with America, so he knew exactly what a zombie was, but he always believed them to be made up... at least the truly dangerous ones.

Seemingly drawn to the phone, Tonny saw something walk across the den... then another. Who the heck were they? One more came into view, and it turned to look at him, rushing over. The zombie slammed against the glass to try and reach him. Tonny fell off and screamed, far louder than he thought was possible, and a much higher pitch. He had read it, but didn't truly believe until he saw those gnarled hands break through the glass.

Tonny started to crab walk backwards, staring agape up at the window. He heard moans behind him, and spun around to see others heading towards him. Not wasting any time, Tonny bolted back to his ship, almost literally flying over the ground. He managed to stay out of arms reach, sprinting back into his ship. Tonny revved up the engines, and sped off into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Short chapter, I know, but I needed to get Tonny in here. RUN TONNY RUN! (Also I reedited it a bit, cuz I forgot he had to find America's coat. It's not that important, but what's America without his coat?)


	12. Chapter 12

Broken glass crunched beneath Romano's feet. He was walking through one of the abandoned homes, near his area. He had heard screaming a little while ago, but everything was quiet now. What was all this nonsense about zombies? He didn't see anything like that around here. Still, He clutched the gun tightly in his hands. He wouldn't try to say he was a perfect shot, but at last it was some sense of security.

A sound shuffled behind him. Romano yelped, spun around, and fired.

Someone screamed, jumping out of the way of his bullet. "Jeeze, Lovino. Watch what your shooting, man."

Romano stepped back, and sighed. His eyes narrowed over at Spain. "It's not good to sneak up on someone, like that."

Spain just grinned, walking closer. "I was just coming to check up on you. What with all the commotion going around." He crossed the last few steps, and dragged Romano into his arms. "I'm just glad to see you are alright."

Romano growled, starting to pry Spain's arms from him. "Get off me. I don't need your hugging."

"I'm sorry." Spain continued to smile, tears filling his eyes, hands still clamped on the younger nation's shoulders. "I'm just so happy to see that you are still safe. Come on. We need to try and get contact with someone." He grabbed Romano's arm, and dragged him along.

"You don't even know where anyone else is?"

"I've tried to call around, but nobody seems to be responding." They walked for a while, soon coming across a long stretch of road. The streets were completely littered with overturned cars. Spain stood onto his toes, trying to see over them. "People can be quite reckless in their panic. Check the cars, maybe we can scavenge for supplies."

Romano snorted at the command, but still did as he was told.

After a good while of searching, they managed to find a few bodies, some of which actually had guns, though not much ammo. Romano peered into the back seat of one of the vans and found a car seat. There was a small rabbit sitting in it, but thankfully no blood was in the area. The floorboard held a blue cooler. He opened it up, but all that was in it were a few stray drinks, sitting in a pool of water. "Guess these could be useful." He plucked the drinks out, and slid them into a satchel that Spain made him carry.

Romano checked into the truck in front of that one, and cringed. There was a dead guy in the front seat, clutching some kind of leather pouch, with an Italian flag stitched on it. Feeling kind of sick, he forced the door open, and reached for the pouch, carefully trying to not touch him. Once he finally removed the bundle, he pulled the string and started to unwrap it. It was a set of what looked like hunting knives. "Oh, hey Antonio. I found something." He was startled in realizing that the body in the truck was moving. He fell sideways, titling over, out of his seat, and onto the ground. Romano jumped back, the hand falling out, and hitting his leg. A chill ran through his body, forcing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, but the body didn't move any further.

"Lovino." Spain rushed over, grabbed his arm, and dragged him a little ways away. "Quickly, up here." Spain urged Romano up a ladder on the side of a camper, soon following him. Romano glanced over the side, and saw a large group of figures walking up the road towards them. Spain threw an arm over him, pushing his head down. "Just stay down."

"A-are those?"

"Shh."

The two nations hid on top of the camper, not daring to take their eyes from the zombies, as they marched by. There wasn't too many of them, but they were spaced in a way, where it seemed like they'd go on for miles.

Romano soon found he was clinging to Spain, slowly trying to shrink the size of his body.

Finally, Spain let out a low breath, almost like he'd been holding it for the duration. "Alright, they're gone."

"Really?" Romano glanced over the side.

"You stay here, I'll make sure." Spain started to climb down the ladder.

"Be careful."

He jumped down about halfway, and instantly brought up his shotgun, to check the area. One eye on the retreating horde, Spain glanced around the cars for any stragglers. He walked to the edge of the road, glancing down into the wooded area. There didn't seem to be anything down there, but who really knew.

Romano slowly started to climb down, and began looking around as well. His tension mounted, walking around the camper. He gasped, spotting one still trudging along, far behind the pack. The zombie's head whipped around towards him, and started rushing forward. A brief moment of paralysis, and Romano fumbled around to hold his gun up right, and fired. The bullet clipped her arm, knocking off the angle of the run. The zombie snarled, soon closing in, and Romano shot it again. It knocked her off enough so that he could side step the zombie from grabbing him. Romano ran, a few more shots fired back at her, until finally the skull exploded, and the zombie collapsed to the ground.

Romano slumped onto the car, holding a hand to his throbbing chest.

"Lovino!" Spain cried, making his way back towards him.

Romano started to push off, about to meet him halfway, when a hand grasped hold of his wrist. He screamed, spinning around to see the driver of the car starting to lift it's head up to him.

A shot rang out, cutting the hand at the wrist. Romano shivered, cringing as he had to shake the hand to let go. He spun around to see Spain running for him. Spain grabbed his arm, dragging him along the road.

Some figures started to climb out of the cars, others still trying, where they couldn't open the door. Soon, there was no path, up the road, and they stopped, Spain lifting his gun on them. Romano clung to the leather bundle, glancing back at the zombies behind them. Cutting in to his baser instincts, Romano bolted, running straight for the trees.

At the sound of his retreat, Spain turned to see which way he had gone. "Lovino!" He looked back at the approaching threat, then took off after him. "Lovino, slow down." Romano was fast, so it took a bit for Spain to catch up to him, cutting himself up on the trees hanging over the narrow path. He glanced back to see a couple chasing after him. It finally caught up to Romano, grabbing his arm. "Come on."

There was what looked like a small cathedral, just down the hill. The two nations ran for it, slamming into the wooden doors. They had to struggle against some kind of blockade, before the door finally swung open to let them in. There was what looked like two large metal handles, and a beam of wood nearby. Spain started to try and heft up the beam, but it was splintered, and really heavy. "Lovino, help me."

Still shaking, and scanning the rest of the room, Romano moved forward to grab the beam and help him lift it up. In his desperation, Spain gave one final shove, sliding the beam in place, but his hand slipped, knocking off one of the rather large splinters. The splinter cut into his arm, sliding up along his forearm. Spain swore loudly as he slumped to the ground. It fell right out, but it was bleeding profusely. "Not good."

"Are you ok?"

"Maybe." Spain wrapped the bottom of his shirt around his arm, trying to staunch the bleeding.

They both spun around, at the sound of a gun cocking. A rather short man was pointing a shot gun straight at them. You'd think he wouldn't be all that intimidating, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in the broadness of his shoulders. "Who's there?"

Both Romano and Spain put their hands up "We're still alive." Spain peered around, trying to see who it was. He recognized the man, but for the life of him could not think of who he was.

"What are you doing here?"

They were a bit unsure of why he seemed so hostile towards them. "Uh, we were just trying to take refuge from th-"

"You led them here, didn't you?"

"What?"

The man held the gun up higher, slowly making his way closer to them. "Did you lead them here?" He ran over to the door, checking through the crack, but didn't take his gun off the two nations. "There's some out there. You led them right to us."

Spain stepped back. "We were just looking for shelter. We didn't know anyone was in here."

He finally groaned, lowering his gun. "They don't seem to have realized you're here yet." A set of angry brown eyes landed on them. "You better hope it stays that way." His gaze flicked to the door. "Good job in blocking that door. I couldn't lift that thing."

As he shouldered the gun, Romano finally got a good look at him as he started heading back towards the alter. He didn't know him too well, but finally the name clicked. "Croatia?"

Croatia gave him a small glance, then leaned over to look under the alter. "Come on out, Siccy, you were right."

Romano squinted to try and better see who was there, as a head popped out to look back at them.

Spain stood, looking a little weary. "Is that Sicily?"

The head snapped back, conversing quietly with the someone, then a little red haired girl ran out, her arms spread wide. "Brother! You're here!" Sicily threw her arms around Romano, squeezing him uncomfortably.

"How did you get here?" Spain asked, dropping a hand on her head.

"We hid here, what with those monsters everywhere."

Croatia was still poking his head under the alter, seemingly trying to urge someone out.

Spain wandered over, and glanced under the alter. Seychelles was sitting with her legs curled up to her chest, chin resting on her knees. "Hi there." He spoke, his kindest smile spread on his face. "It's ok, we're not going to hurt you, and as long as the door holds, we're going to be fine."

She glanced up at him, unsure. "They can't get in?"

Spain shook his head. "Not any time soon. Plus, now that we're together, we can look after each other."

Seychelles eyes flooded with tears. "Have you seen Papa?"

The smiled faded from Spain's face, a bit lost for words. He sighed, a hand falling on her shoulder. "I'm afraid not, but there's rumor of a lot of countries gathering together to discuss the matters. I guarantee France will be there as well."

She gave a small smile. "Really?"

"I'm sure of it." He held out a hand to her, his smile returning. "Come on out now, precious."

She grasped his hand, wincing slightly as she was led out. Spain's eyes fell, seeing a small pool of blood coating the front of her torn dress. A bandage could be seen through the hole. "What happened?"

She blushed slightly, glancing over at Sicily. "I was caught by one of them, and it -" She trailed off, diverting her eyes.

Croatia sighed, deciding he should finish for her. "One of those things got a hold of her. It tore a hole, right in her stomach."

Both Spain and Romano went pale. Sicily moved over, dragging Romano with her.

Spain helped Seychelles into one of the pews. "Are you doing alright?"

She nodded. "It seems to have stopped bleeding."

"Let me take a look. Can you um-" Spain flushed slightly. "Can you take off your dress... please?"

Seychelles seemed a bit turned off, by the request, but started to pull it over her head. Spain offered his jacket to assist covering her, as he unwrapped the bandages and took a look. The wound looked as if it had been stitched. She winced, but kept any complaints to herself as he looked over it. It was very raw, and there was a definite infection. "It didn't bite you, did it?"

She shook her head. "No, but it had sharp nails."

Spain wracked his brain, trying to factor the full extent of what she was in store for. On the other hand, his own blood loss was getting to him. "Who stitched you up?"

"I did." Croatia commented, holding up a light hand. "Or at least I tried. I didn't quite have the right equipment."

"Then we need to try and find some actual medical supplies. First rule of survival is to take care of any injuries." Spain went to stand, but the moment he was upright, his head floated three feet in the air. He started to feel woozy, knees buckling under him. Romano rushed forward, catching him before he could hit the ground. "Easy there. What's going on with you?"

He settled onto the ground, and Spain smiled up at him, his eyes unfocused. "Aww, look at you, being all concerned, for your boss."

"Get over yourself, I just don't want to be left alone, with these kids."

"Kids?" Croatia snorted.

"I'm ok." Spain waved a hand at them. "I think I just need some rest."

"Don't you dare close your eyes, you bastard. There should be a pharmacy, just up the road. You can make it up there, right?"

"Maybe. We have to get around the zombies first." With the state of focus coming back to him, Spain's head was starting to throb. "I don't think I'm in any condition to fight. Do you think you can clear the way?"

Romano's face paled. "Me?"

"Of course. I mean, you know the way, right?"

"Well, yea... but."

"There's not that many out there." Croatia was peering out between the cracks in the door. He glanced back to the group. "Maybe we can sneak past them."

"That's certainly a possibility." Romano made his way over to confirm what he was saying. There were only a couple around, but they seemed to be wandering away. Far more distracted by a deer that was bounding through the area. "He's right." Romano made his way back towards them. "If we can wait a bit, then we should be able to make a run for it."

He was nervous, hearing no response. "Antonio?" Spain had fallen asleep, inciting Romano's panic. He dropped to his knees, shaking the older nation awake. "Antonio!"

"Shh." Spain slurred. "Keep your voice down. I'm fine."

"No, you're not! You have to stay awake!"

"Well, let's get out of here." Spain forced himself up, trying his hardest to stay upright, but ended up slumping against Romano for support. "Lead the way, Lovino."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey, there's Romano... and Spain... and... who the fuck is Croatia? Lol, I don't truly know what I'm doing anymore. And don't ask why I made Sicily a little girl, I just wanted more little girls around. Croatia's only there cause I didn't think it'd be a good idea to leave them alone. Though I'm probably picturing Seychelles as being a lot younger than she really is. Kinda late-preteenish, Oh well. I might have more countries in here than I thought, who really knows anymore.


	13. Chapter 13

"I hope the other group's doing ok." Canada sighed, looking through some of their supplies. The group had resolved to stay within the mall, until they heard word from Germany. That was almost two weeks ago. The zombies, within the mall, were easily taken care of, leaving them open to travel out for more equipment. They had each found a change of clothes, thankful to get into something warm and clean. Worried the food could rot, They had acquired a mini fridge, keeping what they needed in there, being careful to ration the supplies, over the next few days. There wasn't too much that had both requirements of being salvageable and trusted.

Most of their effort went to what they would need, once they finally had to leave. The sporting goods store proved to be far more useful than anything else. There were MREs (Meals, ready-to-eat) and a plethora of weapons. Canada located a holster for his knife, (Since he didn't really get a chance to grab his own.) and even managed to find a projectile weapon that suited him better.

"Ya know, gun ammo's easier to carry." His brother jeered, looking through the store of bullets.

"Maybe so, but a crossbow's quieter. Besides." He waved a bolt in the air, grinning. "I could, theoretically, get these back."

"I suppose." America plucked up an aluminum baseball bat, twirling it in his hands. "Wonder how much force I can get one handed, on this thing."

"Your arms healing up nicely, maybe you won't have to worry about that soon."

"Heh, true." He swung the bat a bit, testing the force of it, either way. "Though I don't see it healing up that soon." He snapped what was actually meant to hold whips to his waist, settling the bat in it. He smiled, glad at how nicely it held. "I'll admit, you're right about blunt objects. Perhaps I should duel wield."

"That'd definitely be something to see."

America fastened another harness onto his belt, sliding in a second bat. "Might as well be prepared, in case I lose one."

"Now you're thinking ahead." Canada laughed. His eyes flicked up to the wall clock. "Come on, let's head back. The others might get worried."

"Yea, sure."

They started back down the corridors, back to the furniture store. America's eyes flicking to his twin's subtle limp. "How's your leg doing?"

"It's fine. The bullet wasn't too far in, so it's healing up nicely." Canada paused, glancing down at his leg. "It just twinges a bit." There was a definite drop in his demeanor, and America could feel the guilt twisting in his gut. "Mattie?" He reached a hand out to lay against his shoulder, stopping Canada in place. "I'm sorry... that I wasn't able to help Cuba."

Canada let out a small sigh. He brushed a tear from his cheek, shaking his head as he smiled up at his brother. "It's fine. I'm sure you did everything you could, for him."

America's head fell, backing up a step. "Yes, but maybe I could have done more." His expression fell further, thinking back to the children who had come to him, for help. About how he seems to be so useless, when people really needed him.

Canada suddenly became unnerved by the pain in his brother's eyes. "Don't do that."

"Huh?"

Canada stepped forward, grasping America's arms, agitating the break a bit. "Don't start focusing on hindsight. You're going to drive yourself crazy." He sighed, diverting his gaze, and loosened his grip, seeming to realize what he was doing. "This is the world we live in now, so we just need to keep looking forward to try and live as long as we can."

"But I..." He hesitated, finding he wanted to tell Canada what he was thinking, but couldn't. He had his own burdens with this whole mess, America didn't want to throw his onto him as well.

Canada saw the way America's eyes glazed over, his concern sparking again. It was the same expression he had back on the ATV, in his place. Canada stepped forward, and tapped the side of his face. Immediately, America's eyes focused on him, registering the sad look in his twin's eyes. "Al... what is it?"

America contemplated his options, for a bit, then forced a smile, shaking his head. "Just thinking about stuff. Nothing major."

Canada scowled. "Alfred."

America sighed, throwing an arm around Canada's shoulder. "I was just thinking that you're right. Y'know, about that whole hindsight, thing. I guess it's just hard for me to think that way. You're so smart, Mattie."

Canada actually growled at him, knowing very well that he had been side stepped again. He decided to let it slide, confident that he would find out, eventually. America always confided his problems in him. "Well, stop thinking that way." Canada said, making himself laugh. "At the very least, we need you to focus, and look after us. That is what a hero does, after all." He finished, mockingly.

America snorted, but still smiled. "That's a lot of pressure, you know?"

"Maybe so, but who says there only has to be one hero." Canada grinned brightly up to his twin. "After all, I'm a hero too, y'know. If I hadn't saved you, you'd be zombie chow by now."

America gave a rather bitter sweet laugh. "That's certainly true." He squeezed Canada closer in a half hug, as they started walking again. "And I can't thank you enough, for that."

Canada glanced up at him, almost seeming to absorb some of his guilt. "Al, I have something to tell you." His gaze shifted down when America turned to look at him. "It's about Alaska."

America could feel his face heating up, not sure he wanted to hear this. "What about her?"

Canada bit his lip, fingers wringing the supplies in his hands. "I think she's infected."

America breathed in deep, closing his eyes. He was afraid he would say that, but still he just glanced up to him curiously. "What makes you think that?"

Canada felt he couldn't look at him. America had trusted him to take care of her, and he let this happen. "The fort wasn't as safe as we initially thought." His eyes burned at the memory. "Mexico was quickly overtaken, so I ran for cover." America's grip loosened, making him nervous. "I managed to take refuge in a tank, but there was one of them climbing over the other side and... and..." He stalled, taking a breath. "And she bit him."

America's hand completely fell away, and Canada finally glanced up at the shock in his eyes. "She was trying to protect me, and I didn't think anything of it, at the time, but that must have been how she got infected." He hesitated, something clicking together in his memory. His voice dropped a hair. "The same way, Kumajirou did." They were both quiet for a bit, America's eyes fixed on the ground, a deep crease forming between his brows. Canada started to feel a bit lost. He looked so angry. "Alfred, I'm sorry. I should have taken better care of her."

Finally, America shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Alaska was my responsibility, I shouldn't have just dumped her on you."

"No, Al, that's not what I meant."

"I know." He smiled. "You're far too kind to ever think of it that way, but that doesn't make it any less true."

The guilt grew from him being so compliant. "Alfred, you don't-"

"Who's focusing on hindsight, now."

"Yea, but, this effects the present."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, we don't know if that's really it." The smile grew wider, but there was a definite note of uncertainty in his eyes. "She could just be sick."

Canada's gaze fell into pity. "Al, you have to think logically about this. It's the only real explanation."

"Yes, I know it's logical, but when have I ever dealt in logic?" America's arm pulled Canada in closer, both to emphasize a comforting manner, and to keep him from seeing his face. "I'll just give it a few more days. If she doesn't recover..." His voice started to trail off, as if unsure of what he would do, then stopped. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, glassing over.

Canada glanced up at him. "What is it?"

"Something's wrong."

"Huh? Like what?" He was cut off from America bolting off at a dead run towards the furniture store. Canada hesitated, only slightly, and ran after him.

He ran to where he had laid Alaska to rest to see France sitting next to her, petting the twitching head. Immediately, he dropped to his knees, nudging France's hand out of the way. Alaska was whimpering, her body seemed to go into seizures. "What's happening to her?" A bit later she stopped moving, and everything went quiet. Everyone sat in silence, staring at the still dog. "Alaska?" Tears started to fill America's eyes, running a hand gently over the soft fur. She was far too still, not even her chest was rising with breath.

Frustrated, America brushed a hand over his face, standing up. He stared down at the dog, fingering the pistol at his hip. Everyone else backed away, but Canada moved closer, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Just a precaution."

"I know."

Not fully wanting to, America lifted the gun from its holster, eyes fixed on Alaska. A brief moment to check his ammo, and when America looked back up at her, she was twitching. America was startled at seeing her move, that he momentarily forgot what it could mean. "Alaska?"

Once the realization clicked back in, America shoved Canada back, taking aim, but Alaska jumped aside, somehow avoiding the bullet. She crouched on the floor, snarling at the nations, claws digging into the carpeted floor. The once beautiful blue eyes were now glazed over with a milky sheen.

Far faster than any of them thought, Alaska sprang around America and jumped at Canada. Canada screamed, as the snarling dog dragged him backwards to the ground.

A quick shot, a short yip, and Alaska fell down dead.

Immediately, America fell to his knees, next to Canada, ripping open his coat, and pulling the side of his shirt aside to check his shoulder. "Alfred?"

America's eyes widened in horror at the deep bloody gash streaked across Canada's shoulder. "No." Eyes strained in horror. "No, you can't." Blood coated his hands, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Alfred, what's wrong?"

"All because I... couldn't-" His head fell down, hands shaking against his brother's arms.

"Alfred, calm down. I'm fine."

"No. No you're not." America pulled at his hair, streaking blood through the blonde strands. "No, I fucked up, again." He growled at himself, hammering his fists into his head.

"Alfred!" Canada cried, shaking his shoulders. "Alfred, look at me. It's ok. I'm not hurt."

"What?"

"I'm not hurt. She only caught my coat."

"What?" America lifted his head cautiously, and he was shocked by what he saw. Or rather, didn't see. Canada's shoulder was completely clean. Not cut, no blood, nothing. The blood on America's hands was even gone. "How? I-I don't... understand."

Canada took America's shaking hands into his own. "It's ok." Canada smiled. "I guess it's a good thing we found more clothes, huh?"

Rather than looking relieved, America just seemed more agitated. Without another word, he stood up, walking over to Alaska.

"Alfred?"

Another bullet tore right through the dog's skull, ensuring her demise. America pulled one of the blankets off, from a nearby bed. For a bit, he just twisted the blanket in his hands, then threw it over Alaska. Dropping to his knees, America fully wrapped his state in the blanket, and lifted her into his arms, heading towards the back of the store.

Canada got up, to try and follow, but Russia grabbed his arm. "Leave him alone. Jones is acting strange, but he needs to sort this out, on his own." Russia's eyes followed America, narrowing slightly. "He needs to get his head together, if we are to be fighting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Re-edited: 07-27-2012 I seem to just be needing to adjust their chapters. Mainly because it seemed kinda light that America's havin some issues, with his inability to save people. BWAHAHA I'm gonna break him.
> 
> DUN NA NA! I have a feeling I'm goin a little too fast, but I'm probably not gonna touch this group for a while, so I guess I wanted to throw in something big. Bye bye puppy. Aww, I made myself sad.


	14. Chapter 14

"I told you to stay awake." Romano hissed, pulling Spain back up. This was probably the tenth time he had fallen to his knees, barely able to stay awake anymore. Under the dead weight, he couldn't hold Spain up and fell to his knees with him. "Antonio?" He shook him, trying to force his hazed eyes to stay open. "Antonio, are you listening to me? Don't you dare die, on me. Look up there." He forced his head up towards the road up ahead. "We're almost there. Stay awake, cause I can't carry you."

Spain squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his eye sight.

"Here, take the girls." Croatia passed him Seychelles' hand. She had been having some trouble walking, with her injury, but could at least stay on her feet. Sicily ran over, seizing his other hand. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Keep quiet." Croatia took Spain's arm, dragging him onto his back. It took some effort, against the dead weight, but he managed to stand, heading off towards the road.

Romano fell back, a bit shocked, his eyes darting around the area, before following. He didn't like that none of them were holding weapons, except the bundle of knives in Sicily's other hand. The guns were slung into holsters, no where close to being ready, if they needed. Fortunately, they were close to the destination. They just had to hope Spain and Seychelles could hold on long enough to have their wounds properly treated.

Once inside, Croatia deposited Spain onto a couch against the wall, then moved to pulled what looked like a door to a cage over the entrance, and locked it. Romano lifted Seychelles to sit on the counter, feeling uneasy. His paranoia was kicked into overdrive, seemingly increasing the more time went along. "Y-you ok?" He asked her, only half caring.

"Uh huh." She responded lightly, holding her arms around her stomach.

Romano felt a hand pat him on the shoulder, and he spun around to see Croatia standing behind him. "Tend to Spain. I'm gonna check the back rooms."

Romano barely heard what he said, still a bit dazed., so Croatia shook his shoulder. "Hey, you hear me?"

"Oh, um, yea, I heard."

Croatia's eyes lingered on him a bit, then hiked up his gun, moving towards the door to the back.

As if coming out of a daze, Romano's eyes slowly landed on to where Spain was laying down on the couch. "Antonio?" He made his way over, kneeling next to him, and patted his senior on the cheek. "Hey, Antonio. You still with me?"

Spain's eyes opened lazily, looking up at him, he tried to speak, not able to find his voice, but it didn't matter. Romano had diverted his attention to the cut on his arm. He peeled back the wrappings, inch by inch to try and keep from agitating the wound. Spain hissed, as the cloth seemed to stick to the dried blood, coating his forearm. It almost seemed like it was wanting to clot, but the cut was still bleeding. Romano forced back the bile wanting to push up his throat, as he turned the arm over to get a better look at it. The inside of his forearm was completely covered in blood, but it seemed as though the blood was mixed with some sort of yellowish discharge. He grimaced, not really knowing how to deal with this.

"How bad is it?" Spain asked, his voice nothing more than a horse croak.

Romano looked up at him, seeing Spain's eyes were closed again. "It's um. It's nothing. You'll be just fine."

Spain laughed lightly, but he still wasn't opening his eyes. "You're a bad liar."

"Shut up, you bastard." His voice cut him off, not wanting to speak anymore for fear he'll hear him choke on the words.

There was a ruckus behind him, and Romano spun around towards the door Croatia had gone through. It sounded as though there was something sliding against the floor, and maybe being thrown on something. Soon, Croatia came through, with a bag thrown over his shoulder. "Here." He passed the bag to Romano. "Start cleaning him up a bit, while I finish barricading the building."

"Are there any in here?" Romano asked, twisting the zipper of the bag, in his hands.

"Not unless they're ninjas." Croatia responded lightly, moving towards the windows.

Sicily was sitting next to Seychelles, seemingly afraid to leave her side, seeing as she had laid down on the counter.

Romano opened the bag to see gauze and bandages and all kinds of medicine he could use to try and fix Spain's arm. He found what seemed to be some kind of saline solution, and unscrewed it. He knew some about medical care, but really was no expert, so we'd have to see how this went. Romano slid a cloth under Spain's arm, and poured the foul smelling liquid over the wound to try and clean it out. That definitely got his attention. Spain gritted his teeth, growling against the sting. He finally managed to open his eyes, to see what Romano had done. "Stop that."

"Huh?" Romano stopped, his eyes shifting over towards Spain.

"You're-you're wasting it." Spain's other hand came up to grab the soaked rag in his hand. "Just clean it off with this."

Romano looked down at the rag, a bit unsure, but ran it over the wound to try and clean the rest of the blood off.

"Is it still bleeding?"

Romano nodded, not wanting to look up at him. "Not." He cleared his throat to try and speak. "Not as much, though."

"Just." He pointed down towards the bag. "Just put some of that stuff on it."

He glanced down to see where he was indicating and found a tube of medicine. Romano unscrewed the cap, and squeezed it along the wound. It looked a bit better, with the dried blood gone, but the edges held obvious signs of infection, and hopefully the medication would help.

"P-Put a-clean cloth over it. Until it stops bleeding." His instructions were a bit slurred now, due to him wanting to drift off a bit.

Later, Croatia made his way back over to them, kneeling next to the couch before Romano even realized he was ever there. He removed the cloth, looking over the wound. There was an odd intensity in his eyes, that seemed a bit different than it had when he looked over Seychelles. Almost as though he were a bit unsure about this wound. Croatia set to work cleaning it, but the blood didn't want to stop, no matter how much they wished it to.

"I-is he-"

"I'm not sure." He cut Romano off, before he could even ask. "It should be enough, for now. I'll close it up, and see if that helps the last bit to stop." He cleaned the wound again, and set to work, trying to sew it up. Spain hissed, his fist clenching. Romano had to turn away, not feeling up to watching this. His eyes wandered over to where Sicily was stroking Seychelles hair, talking softly to her.

He turned back, hearing Spain growling again. Spain's face was read, scrunched up in pain. "Don't you have some kind of pain killers, for him?"

Croatia shook his head. "He's already too weak, I don't want to risk something like that. I'm almost done." He finished off the last of it, snipping the end of the thick thread. As gently as he could manage, he smoothed on more medicine, placed on a clean pad, and wrapped up Spain's forearm. "We'll know in a few hours. Just let him rest, for a bit."

Without another word, he moved back over towards the counter. Romano didn't like the odd hitch when he spoke, but maybe he was imagining things. He could swear he heard the same kind of panic he felt in himself. He didn't need Croatia to be panicked. He was the only one who really knew what to do.

The sound of Seychelles whimpering caught his attention. Croatia ran a hand over her bangs, trying to keep her calm, while he was taking out the crude stitches. There was a syringe lying next to her, but what little pain killers he had didn't seem to be all that effective. "I know it hurts, but you have to bear with it, ok, hon?"

She nodded, her eyes tearing, Sicily gripping tighter to her hand. After a good while, he started trying to clean out the wound again, actually able to use some good antibiotics to try and kill the infection. Despite how much it had to hurt, she was handling it fairly well. She was crying, but Romano knew he'd be moving around a lot more, if he was being stitched up, like that. Perhaps the resolve to get better was enough to keep her still. It probably helped that Croatia was talking to her, the whole time. Trying to keep her calm. He wasn't nearly as harsh as he first let on.

Romano rubbed a chill in his arms, drawing his knees up under his chin. He glanced up at Spain to see he had fallen asleep again, silently wishing he'd stop doing that.

By the time he looked back up to his other allies, Seychelles was out, and Croatia was stroking a hand through her hair, whispering something to her. "Is-is she ok?"

"She's going to be fine." He spoke into his hand. "It's a lot better than it initially was."

"Good." Romano tried to smile. To act like he was truly relieved to hear this, but his sympathy was stuck elsewhere. It was a bit strange to think that he was this concerned for Spain. He always drove him crazy, but he was truly terrified of losing him. There was no sign of his brother, so Spain was all he had left. If that bastard died, what was he going to do? Romano pressed his face into his knees, fighting not to cry. Course, now that he was thinking about Veneziano, his concern had increased, and he lost the last bit of fight he had left.

xXx

The small group had managed to pull cots, from the back, and the couches together to where they can all get some sleep, in relatively close proximity. With the biggest mouth out cold, there was a very tense silence between the nations. They had seemed to form a bond, and a small bit of trust, but there was still not enough familiarity to try for any type of conversation. Croatia had insisted that he take first watch, and Romano didn't see any sense in arguing, but there was no way he was getting to sleep. It could have something to do with Sicily curled up on the cot with him, but maybe not. Course it was a bit uncomfortable, having to stay still, in order to not disturb her, but he didn't have the heart to tell her to get off. He was just as scared as she was, and actually welcomed some sense of security, even if it was from a small child.

His mind was reeling with thoughts of the day. Just this morning, he was relaxing on the veranda, taking a nap, and now, he was hiding from zombies, in an old pharmacy. Spain was unstable, and he had no clue where his brother was. Maybe he was with that damn potato bastard. He better be taking care of him, or he was going to personally make him pay. There was no way he could get through this, if his brother died. Veneziano may have been a pain in the ass, sometimes, but there was still something about him, that made you miss him, when he was gone.

Sicily whimpered, clutching closer to him. Romano peered down at her, brushing the hairs from her face. Then, there was this one. Was she really expecting him to protect her? He wasn't even sure he could protect himself, let alone her.

xXx

Romano had fallen asleep, before he even realized how tired he had become. When he finally woke up, It was either early morning, or late afternoon. Croatia was sitting a little ways away, looking through the set of hunting knives. "What's going on?" Romano pushed himself up, yawning.

"There's not much food here. I was going to check around some of the areas, to see if I can find something." He plucked up a large curved knife, checking the sharpness of the blade.

"Are you going hunting?"

"Not unless I have to. I just want to save my bullets, and this should be able to take out one of those monsters quite easily."

Romano sat up, watching him. He rubbed at an uneasy chill in his arm. "You're going out there?"

"We have to eat. Might as well stock up, while there's none around."

"Oh, are-are there none out there?"

Croatia stepped back, making his way towards the door. "Don't act so nervous, I'm not going to ask you to come."

Romano calmed down a bit, but was soon bothered by another issue. "Are you sure it's alright for you to go out there alone?"

"No, but I'd rather you stay here." He peered out the crack in the windows. "With Spain out, I'm going to be counting on you to hold down the fort."

Romano's face turned a bit red. "I-I'm in charge?"

Judging by the uncertainty of his voice, Croatia rolled his eyes, looking back at him. "You're not going to have to do that much. Just take care of their wounds." His hand waved out over Spain and Seychelles, still sleeping. "Move the table back, once I leave." He went to slide the large table from in front of the back door, and peered out. "I don't see anything out there. Just stay quiet and you should be ok."

"But, if the table's in the way, how are you going to get back in?"

"I'll knock three times, so you can let me back in."

Romano slumped, not liking for him to leave them alone, in the first place, but nodded. "Yea, ok."

xXx

He was gone for what was probably hours. Who knew, Romano lost track some time ago. He had curled up against the couch Spain was still sleeping on, Sicily sitting in his lap. It still felt strange to feel secure with her there, but guessed this way he could at least feel like he was doing his share of protecting her. Seychelles had woken up, and was leaning against his side, holding onto his arm, almost making it seem like he was using the two girls for a shield. Which only countered his sense of doing something right. He didn't know what to think anymore. How could Croatia expect him to hold down the fort? He wasn't the hero type. He couldn't protect anyone. He didn't even like kids, and now was stuck with two of them. Spain was good with kids, why couldn't he just wake up?

Romano looked down at the two girls to see they had fallen asleep. It was only then that he realized the sun had set, and Croatia still wasn't back. Many theories were starting to fly through his head as to why he hadn't returned, each more graphic than the next. Romano's thinking made his eyes go wider, curling in more, which drew the two girls further into him. His heart pound, ears trying to widen to pick up any hint of movement outside. There was some kind of shuffling, and he could have sworn there was a chorus of hungry moans. Each sound made him draw in more. Every chirp, each shuffle, all of the normal sounds of nighttime, increasing his anxiety.

Something screeched in the office, next to their room, and Romano screamed, waking up all three of his remaining teammates. Instantly, both of the girls snapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him.

"Hello - call signs. Radio check, over." There was some kind of voice coming from the office, coated with static. They may have said a name, but none of them could hear it. Although, it didn't matter all that much. Romano recognized that voice. "H-how?"

"That's a radio." Spain exclaimed, trying to sit up. The call came in again, but the static seemed stronger. "Quick. Go find it, before we lose the signal."

At once, Romano jumped to his feet, and ran into the office, tearing through cabinets and such, trying to find the source of the call.

"Does anyone – on the freq – cy? Over."

"Yes! Yes, I'm here!" Romano cried, throwing papers aside until he finally found the old CB radio. He grabbed the receiver, screaming into it, "I'm here!" He started messing with the nobs, to try and get the transmission to come in clearer. "Uh... over."

There was a tense silence in which the author announced she is not going to write "over" at the end of each transmission. Just pretend it's there.

"Who is this? What's your location?" He used the new message to verify he had it right.

Romano's heart leaped into his throat, never remembering a time he was actually happy to hear Germany's voice. "It-Italy Romano. I'm stuck in a pharmacy along the edge of Florence, with Spain, Sicily, and Seychelles. Oh, and Croatia, but he went off somewhere, and hasn't come back yet."

"Florence? That's not too far from where we are."

"I told you he was alive. I just knew it." Romano's spirits grew from hearing his brother's voice in the background. "Veneziano?"

"Romano, are you ok?" Germany must have let Italy have the radio, because he could hear him a lot louder now. Romano felt like he wanted to cry. "Yea, I'm fine." His gaze shifted back towards the other room. "We have a couple of injuries in our group, but they should be alright."

It was a lot clearer that Italy was crying, more than he imagined he was. "Germany's been calling everywhere he could. I was hoping we'd find you."

Sicily's eye lit up, and she ran over. "Is that Veni? Can I talk to him?"

"No." Romano hissed, shoving away her grabby hands. "Buzz off."

"Pleeeease." She whined, still grabbing at it. "I haven't seen Veneziano in years."

He groaned, pulling the receiver to his lips. "Sicily says, hi."

"No I didn't." She snorted. "I said, I wanted to talk to him."

They heard Italy laughing on the other end. "Hi, Sicy."

Sicily's grin broadened and she snatched the radio up, before Romano could stop her again. "Hey, Veni. Did you miss me?"

"Sure did, but I really need to talk to Romano, right now, ok? We'll see each other soon enough."

"But."

"Can you let me talk to him? Then we can find where you are."

Sicily pouted, looking over at Romano. "Ok, fine." She handed Romano back the receiver, though she didn't seem to like it, and went back in to talk to Seychelles.

Romano sighed in annoyance, not sure if it was towards Sicily, or the fact that even his little brother was good with kids. "Have you found anyone else?"

Italy relayed the news about their little group, as well as Russia's. Even the plan for them to meet, once they had word from Japan. Apparently, in his calling, the only other nation he had contacted was Switzerland, who reported he and Liechtenstein were not leaving their area. They had set up a sturdy base of operation, and said something about studying for some kind of cure. He said he would maintain radio contact with them, and Germany had talked Switzerland into agreeing to let them fall back there, if Japan couldn't work things out. "Oh, and Germany wants to know how the others are injured."

"Uh, well." He glanced back into the other room, at the injured. "Spain has a big cut on his arm, and Seychelles apparently almost had her guts ripped out."

"Oh no." Italy cried. "How are they, now?"

"Seychelles seems to be doing ok, but Spain can't stay awake." His eyes fell, finding his concern for his mentor, growing again. "And, it won't stop bleeding."

There was silence for a bit, then Italy finally spoke up again. "Don't worry, Romano. I'm sure he's going to be ok. Are you safe, where you are?"

Romano brushed his eyes, looking around to every entrance he could see. Windows and doors, all barred up. "I think so. Croatia blocked off everything. They shouldn't be able to get in."

"I'm glad to hear that." Italy's voice quite literally came out as a sigh of relief. "I think I know about where you are. We should be able to get there in about a day." Germany's voice spoke out, and Italy whined. The connection went quiet for a bit, then Italy soon got back on, sounding a bit huffy. "Germany says we'll leave first thing in the morning."

Romano didn't like to hear that anymore than his brother did, but they both knew it wasn't going to do much good to argue. "We should be ok, until then." His mind internally wishing they could come now, he thought, "(As long as I know you're coming, for me, I should be ok.)" But he knew he'd never say it. "So, you're not hurt, are you?"

"Not physically." Italy laughed, a bit unsure. "I'm pretty scared though."

"Heh, yea me too. I'm also getting pretty hungry. I wonder if Croatia found any food."

"Well, when we see you again, then I can cook you something really good. Maybe some pasta."

Romano couldn't help but smile. Pasta was definitely Italy's specialty. "Sounds good."

The two brothers continued to talk to each other, far into the night. Exchanging stories about their experiences, so far. Mostly from Italy, going on and on about how many scary events they had run into, along the way. Apparently, the infected was getting to be more as they went further South. It was strange that Romano hadn't seen that many. They talked until Romano fell asleep on the floor of the office, holding onto the radio, which was his only connection to his brother. The only piece of comfort he had left.

xXx

The next morning, Romano was urged awake by what could only be a bright ray of sunlight.

"Romano?"

Hearing his baby brother's voice urged him to fully wake up.

"Romano, are you still there?"

He sighed deeply, his fingers scrambling around the ground until he found the radio again. His free hand raked over his face, trying to urge himself to wake up. "Yea, I'm here."

"Good. Because we're heading over, to come get you, and Germany says I need to get off the radio, to save the battery."

"Oh, ok. I guess I'll see you- the-" His voice trailed off, his brain finally realizing that there shouldn't be this much sunlight, until he saw something shuffling across the main room. Then another one, and he didn't recognize either of them. There was some soft moaning, next to him, and Romano looked to his side to see both Sicily and Seychelles were sleeping next to him.

His hands shook, gripping tighter to the receiver, his mouth going dry. "Ve-ve-vene... hur-ry."

"Ok, Romano. We're on our way."

As the line went dead, Romano's brain started screaming for Italy to come back. Even at himself, for all the things he didn't tell him. For just leaving it with telling him to hurry, knowing there was no way for him to get there in time to change anything.

Somehow, acting on instinct, Romano slowly got to his feet, and headed for the door. Sicily sighed softly, starting to wake up. She looked up towards the door, and gasped.

Romano stopped, holding a hand up to quiet her. When neither of the intruders seemed to notice them, Romano crossed the room in three strides, and pulled the door shut. He leaned against the door, heaving a ragged sigh of near relief.

"What about Mr. Spain?" Sicily asked in a tense whisper.

Romano gasped, his eyes widening in horror. Oh no! How could he forget about Spain! Careful not to open the the door too much, Romano peered out of the crack, searching around to find where Spain was still sleeping. Wake up, you idiot. What was he doing? Unfortunately, the Zombies seemed to have found him to, and were making there way over, although at a decently, slow pace. "Sicily." Romano hissed, turning back towards them. "Wake up Seychelles, and find a way out of here."

Her eyes darted around the room. "We're completely blocked off, in here. How are we supposed to find a way out?"

"I don't know. Just figure it out." He didn't have time to worry about them, right now. Romano looked around the room, until he had found what looked to be a golf bag. He darted over, plucking out a driver. Completely fighting his natural urges, Romano swung the door open, and yelled for the zombie's attention. Course, once they had started for him, he completely forgot what he was going to do. It wasn't until they had got close enough for him to remember to swing for their heads. He managed to actually take out the two in the room, but another popped out of virtually nowhere, and pinned him to the ground. Romano cringed, as the uneven teeth snapped around the handle of the driver.

The vicious head soon snapped away from him, and Romano looked up to see Sicily standing over him, with a bloody putter, panting in terror. Romano took a few breaths to steady himself and got up, patting her on the shoulder. "Just stay in here." Not even stopping to see if she had listened, Romano ran over to Spain, shaking him awake, but he wasn't getting any kind of reaction. "Antonio?" Spain moaned softly, and fell over onto his back. "Antonio, wake up!"

His eyes opened, still a bit hazed over. "Lo-Lo-vino?" Romano was startled to hear his voice sound so weak. Spain was shaking, his skin frighteningly pale.

More zombies came crashing into the room, and Romano's head whipped around upon realizing that not only have the barricades failed, but the numbers had increased exponentially. He pulled Spain's arm around his shoulder, and began trying to drag him into the office. Struggling against the dead weight, he had to try and focus all of his strength into just staying upright. Romano had finally made it back into the office, when Sicily ran to the door and slammed it closed. She and Seychelles pulled the desk, from the far corner, in front of the door.

Romano set Spain up, smacking him on the cheek. "Antonio. Wake up." Spain was putting forth an obvious effort to stay awake, but couldn't manage much more than to hold his eyes open. There was banging on the door, and on the outside of the walls.

"You have to wake up, do you hear me!" Romano was screaming in hysteria, desperately shaking his mentor. "Antonio, you can't leave me!"

Sicily and Seychelles clung to Romano's arms, whimpering in fear. "Brother? What do we do?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to think." Romano clenched his eyes, frustrated, tears running over his face.

Something broke through the door, managing to push the desk out of the way. Even surprising himself, Romano stood, pushing the two girls behind him, driver in hand. "We just have to hold out long enough for the others to get here." He spoke, mainly talking to himself. "That damn potato bastard will kill them all. It's what he does." His voice, and breathing was quickened, almost masking the tears still pouring from his eyes. "Once they get here, everything will be better."

Behind him, Spain could feel the desperation, and panic filling the room, and forced himself to regain full consciousness. His eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in the situation. The zombies coming through into the room. Searching for any means of escape, or at least buying time. There was another door, across the room. Maybe something was back there. Considering they were in a pharmacy, there was a good chance, there was some form of vault to keep the pills in. He pushed himself to sit up. "Sicily, go check that door."

They all glanced back at him, and Sicily's eyes were wide with panic. "M-me?"

Spain nodded. "Just be careful."

Slowly, Sicily inched closer to the door, and checked the handle. "It's – it's locked."

"Ok, fine." His arm shook, as he started to try and push himself onto his feet, gesturing towards her. "Come on back, niña."

She didn't need to be to be told twice, and ran back over, throwing her arms around Spain, both for comfort and attempting to help him stand. Spain continued to look around the small office. Finally, he saw what looked like a covered skylight. "Up there." His knees buckled, but he managed to stay on his feet. "If we can get up to the roof, we should be safe, until Germany gets here."

The desk screeched against the floor, and Romano ran forward to hold it in place. "Sounds like a plan, but how do you suggest we get up there?"

"The shelves." Spain pointed to where he meant. "You should be able to climb them up to the roof." He removed his arm from around Sicily, and she and Seychelles moved to position the shelving until under the hole, in the roof. Romano forced the desk back in place, and ran over to help them, not caring that they were dumping the contents onto the floor. There was another table in the room, and they propped the shelves against it, so that they could better climb the steep incline.

Then desk was starting to slide again, and Romano urged the girls on up, moving back to get Spain. He may have been awake, but was still extremely weak, and unable to move on his own. His skin was even getting paler, shivering like he was cold. With a great deal of effort, and ignoring Spain's requests to leave him, Romano managed to get them both through the skylight, and onto the roof, kicking the shelves out of the way, so that the entering creatures couldn't follow.

Sicily was still clinging to her putter, ready to knock any zombie that dare show its head on their roof. Once Spain was safely resting on the roof, Romano looked out to see that they were completely surrounded. He plucked off his jacket, and threw it around Spain's arms, hoping it would help keep him warm. That damn Germany better get there fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It's probably very bad form for me to be singing, "another one bites the dust" at the end of this chapter. *salutes* Farewell Croatia. I just couldn't write you as well as I thought I could. *cries* I want Mexico back WHY DID I KILL HIM! UGH, I'm seriously considering going back and editing him into more of the story. He'd still die, just not as soon.
> 
> upon writing this story, my imagination has been going haywire. i keep telling myself Zombies aren't real, then keep imagining some crazed cannibal comes running into my yard and tries to eat me... And now i find this article. /5914059/grab-your-boomstick-the-zombie-apocalypse-may-actually-be-upon-us What fuck, man?


	15. Chapter 15

Italy woke up, feeling a lot more rested than he had in weeks. He rolled over, on the cold ground, his fingers twining in what smelled and felt like grass? He didn't fall asleep on grass.

Italy pushed himself up, looking around. He was a bit startled to see there was no sign of Germany, Hungary, Austria, or any of his other currents companions. He was somewhere in the middle of a vast field, the grass rippling against the wind. The wind picked up a bit, as he got to his feet. "L-Ludwig? Is- is anyone- huh?" Over the ridge of a nearby cliff, Italy could make out a shadow, that seemed a bit too familiar.

"Why?" Before he knew what was happening, he started to make his way up the side of the cliff. Who was this shadow? What was he doing?

As he grew closer, the figure started to come in clearer, sending a thrill of excitement through him. He did know him. Italy ran up the last of the cliff, throwing his arms around Rome's neck. "Grandpa!" He buried his face in Rome's shoulder, as he wrapped his arms around him. "My little, Feliciano."

Italy was suddenly very aware of how frightened he had been, as it melted away in the strong protective embrace of his Grandfather's arms. He started crying, feeling the relief flood through him. "Grandpa, you're here."

"Come now, Feliciano." Rome crooned, stroking his grandson's hair. "Don't cry."

"I was so scared. There were monsters everywhere." He gasped, drawing back. "Grandpa, I finally found Romano! Is he really ok?"

A heart warming smile spread across his face, hands tracing through Italy's hair. "He's perfectly fine. I believe he's asleep, right now."

"Really?"

"Really."

Italy beamed, throwing his arms around him again. He finally felt safe again. Grandpa Rome was here now. He'd take care of him.

Soon, Italy's eyes landed on what looked like a shovel. It was then that he remembered Rome was working on something, before he interrupted him. "Grandpa? What were you doing?"

Rome's grip loosened, making Italy a bit nervous. He looked up at him, seeing his eyes falling to his right, taking on a somber expression. "Digging."

"Digging?" Italy followed his gaze to see five holes dug into the soft ground. "What for?"

When he didn't respond, Italy started to feel really nervous, looking up at him. Before he could see his face, Rome pulled him back into his arms, squeezing tight.

"Grandpa?"

Still not speaking, Rome stood, lifting Italy up. "I'm so sorry, Feliciano."

"What? Grandpa, what are you sorry for?" He realized that Rome was seeming to carry him somewhere. A chill ran up his spine when he looked to see he was closing in on the holes. "Gra-Grandpa? What are you-?"

"Just hold on." Without another word, Rome dropped Italy into one of the holes.

"GRANDPA, NO!" Italy screamed, sitting up, from where he was sleeping on one of the beds, in the back of the camper. (Which I totally did not forget they had.)

"Feli!" He heard Hungary call, shoving Austria's arm from around her. She jumped from the bed, running over to him, and flung herself into the bed, holding Italy tightly in her arms, fingers tracing through his hair. "Shh, Feli. It's ok. It's ok, it was just a nightmare." Italy was shaking as she rocked him, whispering softly. "It's ok, now."

"Veni, what's wrong?" Germany burst through the curtain, from where he was taking up post, occasionally falling asleep in the driver's seat. Latvia crawled under his legs, Lithuania, and Estonia peering over his shoulders to try and see what was going on. They had agreed to sleep in the benches, around the tables, to give Belarus the other bed. A nation who seemed more worried that she was woken up.

"Everything's ok, Mr. Germany." Hungary answered, while Italy peered around her arm. "Feli just had a nightmare."

Germany sighed, relieved, making his way over. "Understandable, I suppose." He sat down, on the bed, brushing a hand against Italy's head. "As long as you're ok."

Italy brushed the tears from his eyes, nodding. "Yea, I'm ok. Just a bit nervous."

"Well, we're going to head out to get Romano soon." He stood, starting to head out, only stopping when Italy called out to him. "Hmm?"

"Can I talk to him? On the radio?"

Germany contemplated the notion, knowing that he had to take it away from him last night. "Only briefly." He plucked the radio from its receiver, and handed it to him. "We need to try and save the battery."

"Ok." Italy took the radio, holding it firmly in both hands. "Romano?" When he didn't get a response, Italy suddenly felt nervous again. "Romano!"

Picking up on his panic, Austria moved over to the bed, pulling an arm around his shoulder. "Don't get so worked up, Italy. It's still early. He's probably not even awake."

"Yea, maybe." Italy sighed, calming down a bit. He licked his lips, bringing the receiver to his lips again. "Romano, are you still there?"

There was a rustling over the other side, then he heard Romano's voice come through, tinged with the effects of just waking up. "Yea, I'm here."

Hungary smiled, giving Italy a comforting squeeze. "See?"

"Yea." He smiled, pressing the button again. "Good. Because we're heading over, to come get you, and Germany says I need to get off the radio, to save the battery."

"Oh, ok. I guess I'll see you- the-" Italy's head fell against Hungary's shoulder, missing how his brother's voice trailed off. Plus, Germany had come back in. "Alright, Veni. Wrap it up."

He didn't, however, miss how nervous he sounded, when he spoke again. "Ve-ve-vene... hur-ry."

"Ok, Romano." He spoke, heart pounding. "We're on our way." His hand was shaking as it clicked the radio off.

Italy held the radio, in his hand, a tension building from the silence. He instantly wanted to turn it back on, but Germany made his way over and plucked the radio from his hand. "Veni? Don't."

"What if he needs to call us?"

"It turns on automatically, when a transmission is trying to come through. Now, just sit tight." Germany clapped his friend on the shoulder, kneeling next to where he was sitting. "We'll have Romano back soon." He patted him, and moved back towards the front.

"He sounded scared." Italy stated quietly, curling back up into Hungary's arms.

"I'm sure he's going to be scared, until you get there." Hungary responded kindly, pulling them both so that they were leaning against the back wall. Austria pulled up a blanket, around the three of them, curling in on his other side. "Just like you'll be scared until you see him."

"True." It was a bit strange for have Austria acting so fatherly towards him, but then again, perhaps the pressures of not having to worry about the status of a nation allowed him to relax. It was a welcome change, one he was going to take full advantage of.

"It'll be ok." Lavtia piped up, leaping onto what little space there was left on the bed, and fell off backwards. His brothers rushed forward to catch him, but he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I just know it." Lithuania and Estonia exchanged looks, then shrugged, finding it better to agree.

Italy laughed, inviting them to cram into the bed as well. Much to Austria's annoyance, but he figured there was no point fighting it. Especially with his wife seeming to enjoy the comfort. The group was unbalanced a bit, as Germany started driving off. When it was finally established that they weren't going to fall from the bed, the tension broke and the group started laughing.

Belarus groaned, smacking the pillow, as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. "I'm not getting back to sleep, am I?"

"Probably not." Latvia chimed.

Lithuania tried to scoot aside, seemingly trying to make room. "You're welcome to join us, Ms. Bela."

Belarus looked as if she was seriously considering accepting the offer, then she flopped back over, facing the wall.

xXx

Italy had been worried before, about Romano, but now that he'd talked to him the worry was starting to mingle with anxiety. (Despite the earlier attempts to make them all feel better.) He felt fidgety, uneasy, and really wanted to talk to his brother again... just to assure himself that he was just being paranoid.

They drove along, becoming more and more aware of the increasing numbers around them. Italy was sitting in the passenger seat directing them. His anxiety was growing stronger as well. To a point where he was wringing his hands tightly around the hem of his shirt, nearly tearing the fabric. His mind was starting to trail off in thoughts of what could possibly be happening to his big brother, that he couldn't really focus on what was around them.

"Veni?" Germany called, when he was running out of road. "Italy!"

Italy jumped, twisting the shirt around his hand.

"Which way?"

He took a minute to try and get his bearings, then instructed Germany to turn around and head off to the right. Germany huffed, spinning the camper around. He drove a short ways, attention divided between the road and Italy, who's eyes were hazing over again. "You alright?"

"Huh? Uh, yea yea." His face felt numb, suddenly becoming aware of how fast his heart was beating. Italy sighed. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"I-I'm not sure." Italy's eyes started to burn. "Romano's scared."

Germany's gaze flicked briefly towards him. "You're scared. Are you sure it is not just you?"

Italy shook his head, eyes falling. "No, it's Romano. Something's wrong."

"Well, you can't worry about that."

"What?" Italy looked to him in shock. "How could you expect me to not worry about Romano? He could be in trouble, and-"

"-And, if he's in trouble, worrying is not going to do any good." Germany stated firmly, cutting him off. "You need to pay attention, so that we can make it there to help him." He glanced over to make sure Italy was listening. "Do you understand me?"

Still feeling anxious, Italy nodded. "Ok." He didn't know how he was going to do it, but Germany made far too much sense to just ignore it. His chest was aching, feeling as though he could feel Romano's heart beating harder than his own. With the two combined, it was starting to hurt.

Italy sighed to try and steady his breathing, then put his focus to directing Germany, his hand now gripping his chest.

As they moved along, Germany found it was very effective to run over their obstacles, albeit a bit reluctantly. Austria, Lithuania and Estonia were standing guard at the windows, ready for any intrusions that might try their chances. Hungary was at the door, waiting for Germany's word to head out. They were on the road that was supposed to lead to the pharmacy, they were in, and Italy's anxiety suddenly increased. He got to his feet, squinting down the road. The late afternoon sun was shining in his eyes, and he couldn't make out anything too clearly. "Something's wrong."

"Well, yes, clearly-"

"No." Italy snapped, startling Germany for once being cut off, by his friend. Italy's eyes were intently focused on the road ahead, trying to make out any trace of Romano. "He's not there."

"What do you mean, he's not there? We're not even close enough to see anything."

Italy just shook his head. "He's not there. I can't feel him. I can't feel him anywhere." There was an edge of panic, to his voice, but overall an obvious effort to stay calm.

Then, they heard it. Screaming outside, just around the other side of the pharmacy. "What was that?" Germany asked, shifting in his seat to see if he could find the source of the screams. "Is that Romano?"

"No." Italy stated, sounding a bit disappointed.

"Then who?"

"THERE!" They both turned around with hearing Estonia calling, from the back, and Italy ran back to check on what he saw. Course Germany had to turn back quickly, considering he was driving, in time to see a few zombies disappear under the front of their vehicle. He knew they were already dead, but something about running over human figures didn't quite sit well with him. "Ludwig, turn around!"

"What?"

"Turn around. I see something."

"Fine. Hold on." Considering the size, and speed they were going, turning around didn't really settle well with Germany, but he turned the wheel, and diverted his track off the road. The passengers in the back were tossed around a bit, nearly tipping it over.

Austria called for everyone to get back to the other side, and they actually managed a u-turn, without losing much speed.

Italy ran back up to the front, pointing over to two figures running full speed through the forest. "Over there."

"I see them, but there's no way I'm getting this thing through the trees."

"There's not that many around." Hungary called forward, hitching up her rifle. "Perhaps we can reach them, before they get too far away. Stop the vehicle."

Not particularly liking the idea of going out, especially when they didn't find what they came for, Germany pulled up onto the side of the road. Instantly switching to attack mode, Germany grabbed his gun and started out the door, after Hungary. "Italy, stay here. Austria, come with us. You three, stand guard."

"Yes, sir." The Baltic brothers saluted, mainly from habit, though they weren't as afraid of Germany.

"Ludwig, wait!" Italy cried, running out after them. "I'm coming too." He easily caught up to Germany, but Germany grabbed his arm, looking as if he was going to push him back towards the camper. "I told you to stay! Why can you never follow orders?"

"But I have to go." Italy cried, trying to stand his ground, no matter how much the tight grip hurt. "I can't feel Romano. I was hoping maybe I just needed to get out into the open. If he's around here, I should know." His eyes started to tear in desperation. "Please, Ludwig. I need to find him."

Germany groaned, in aggravation, trying to ignore a very sharp pain in his head. "Fine, just stay close."

Hungary was ahead of the pack, clearing out the area with a large frying pan she found in the kitchenette. She wished to save her ammo for long range invasions. "You two, stop!" She called out to the retreating backs of the two figures. "We're not going to hurt you!"

The two figures stopped, turning back towards them. From somewhere off in the darkness, About three zombies jumped out at them. They screamed, running back towards Hungary, who took care of the imposing threat with ease.

The two girls hid behind her, clamping tightly around her waist. "Come out, now. We don't have time for this." Hungary grabbed their hands, pulling Sicily and Seychelles out in front. Sicily was still holding tightly to the putter, Seychelles hands now clamped tightly to a blood spattered driver. Both of their eyes were darting around the area, as if trying to stay alert to any intrusions.

When Italy saw the two girls, his eyes scanned the area as well, though for an entirely different reason. "I still don't feel him." His breathing hastened with fear. "Where is he?" Italy finally cried, turning to the two frightened girls.

"What?"

Italy fell to his knees, grasping Sicily's shoulders. "You were with Romano. Where is he? What happened to my brother!" He had started to panic, and was barely aware that he was shaking the already frightened child, until Seychelles grabbed his arm. "We were separated." She stated quietly, her hands shaking. "When-when Antonio died, he kinda freaked, and ran."

Italy took a sharp breath. "Antonio?"

Seychelles' eyes were starting to tear up, voice shaking more. "He-he said that he was going to- to lead them away, but it didn't really work. We were still sur- surrounded and then we had lost Romano too." She drew her hand back, as if scared to touch him now, which was probably emphasized by the horror filled rage flooding into Italy's eyes. "I'm- I'm sorry, Italy. There was nothing we could do. He runs too fast, for us to keep up."

"No." Italy released his vice-like grip on Sicily, and fell back to sit on his feet. "No, Romano." Tears streamed from his eyes, hands pulling at his hair. "This can't be happening."

"Veni?" Germany grabbed his shoulders, trying to coax his friend to stand. "Veni, we don't need you to freak out here. Come on, let's get back to the camper."

Austria and Hungary were doing a thorough job of keeping the area clear, even assisted by the petrified little girls, but they were definitely voting on heading back. Seeing as he apparently wasn't going to follow on his own, Germany dragged Italy to his feet, and they ran back towards the road.

Some ways from their destination, Italy felt a sharp ping hit his chest. He stopped, his eyes trying to focus on a spot far off into the distance.

"Veni?"

"Romano?"

"What?"

"ROMANO!" With Germany's confused grip going lax, Italy was able to wrench his arm free, and took off, at an angle, back into the woods.

"VENI, COME BACK!" Germany cried, taking off after him.

"Hold on!" Hungary gasped, wanting to start after them, but someone grabbed her arm. "Roderich, we can't just- YAH!" She had turned around to address her husband, but saw that he wasn't the one that stopped her. Austria was, however, the one to kill it for her. He had a shadow of panic on his face, but was doing well at masking it. "We don't have time to worry about them." He indicated their surroundings, and numerous shadows closing in on their location.

Hungary stood up, one hand slowly going to the nozzle of the gas tank, still hooked onto her back. "Girls, get ready to run for the camper."

Austria held his rifle ready, standing over Seychelles and Sicily, although they seemed just as determined to fight their way out. "Be careful not to burn down the woods." He addressed Hungary, though wasn't daring to take his eyes from the zombies. Their experience with these things have proven them to be fairly tricky. "Germany, and Italy might get caught up in the fire."

Hungary huffed, not liking the idea of having to hold back, but nodded. "You're right."

Austria started shooting into the crowd, trying to lessen them enough so that Hungary didn't have to go overboard with the fire. He had to stop to reload, when one of them closed in and grabbed his shoulders, from behind. A bullet nailed it in the head, and Austria whipped around to see who it was. Lithuania and Estonia had come out to assist them, most likely commanding Latvia to stay in and guard Belarus. Or rather, keeping him out of danger.

Hungary hefted up the flame thrower, and torched any in their way. Having reloaded his gun, Austria smacked one of the with the butt of his rifle, finding he couldn't get it up in time to shoot. "Girl's run!" He called, and Seychelles and Sicily took off towards the two Baltic states, without a second thought. Austria grabbed Hungary's arm, and dragged her to follow them. "But what about Feli, and Mr. Germany?"

"Germany will bring Italy back. We need to focus on our safety." They both yelped, seeing a bright blaze running after them. Apparently, some of the zombies were burning, but not quite dead from it. Hungary whipped her arm from Austria's grip, pushing him forward, when the zombie knocked her to the ground, the fire burning through her dress, and into her skin.

Austria spun around and shot the flaming zombie, that had pinned his Hungary, as well as the others that were still running for them. He dropped to his knees, looking over her. "Can you move?"

"I-I think so." She held up a hand for him to help her up, and they started off again.

Lithuania fell back to let the two girls in, and moved inside to help Hungary up the stairs.

Austria and Estonia stayed out, to make sure the others were safely inside, shooting down the approaching zombies.

"Eduard!" Latvia cried, hanging out the door as he called for his brother. "Hurry and get in."

Estonia jumped with hearing him so close. "RAIVIS! GET BACK INSIDE!" He screamed, his nerves already on edge.

The distraction only lasted for a brief moment, but that was all it took for a zombie to creep up behind Austria, biting off a chunk of his arm.

"RODERICH!" Hungary shrieked, instantly taking alert with hearing him scream, completely forgetting her own wounds. She bolted back out, leaving Lithuania with his futile attempts to try and stop her. Saying something about burns, and no condition, or something like that, but it didn't matter. All she could hear was that Austria needed her. Instantly, her pan found whatever had hold of him. She didn't even bother to check if they were dead, dragging him back onto the camper.

Austria lay, shaking, on the ground, blood pouring from his partially devoured arm, and a fresh wound on the side of his neck. "E-Eli-za-"

"Shh." Hungary ripped off a chunk of her dress, holding it over the wound in his neck. Tears coated her cheeks, the other hand raking through his hair. "Hush now. Save your strength."

Austria opened his mouth to try and speak again, but nothing would come out. Instead, he seemed to gag on his own words, his lips starting to turn blue.

"Don't force it. Don't talk." Hungary pleaded, leaning her face in close to his, her voice dipping to a panicked whisper. "Just stay with me."

Although he couldn't make a sound, Hungary could hear what he said, far more clearly than she could any other screams around her. _"S_ _tark bleiben, meine liebe._ _"_

Stay strong, my love.

It was the last message he was able to convey, before his final breath.

"Roderich?" She sobbed, gripping his hair in her fist. "Roderich, no. Please, don't leave me. I need you here with me." Her voice broke, leaning down to kiss him good-bye.

xXx

He was this way. He knew it. Romano may have been running, as fast as he could, but he was going in this direction. If Italy kept running, he should be able to catch him. "Romano, I'm coming!" He called, completely unaware of Germany calling after him, or even the sounds of his gun firing behind him.

Wait, there he was! Up ahead, he could see him. Romano was ahead of him, and he'd be able to catch up to him soon. He'd have his brother back. They would both be alright. Safe and sound.

Italy ran up to him, throwing his arms around him. "Romano, you're safe." Finally touching him, Italy started to realize something was wrong. His skin felt cold and stiff, and there didn't seem to be any breath in him. Italy jumped back and yelped, as the figure turned towards him. "You-you're not... Romano." Tears freed themselves from his eyes, both from shock, and disappointment.  
"You're not Romano at all." Something grabbed hold of him, and he highly hoped it was Germany, but it wasn't. Germany was calling to him, but was too far away to help him.

He couldn't even find his voice to scream, as he tore his arm away from the zombie, and realized he was surrounded. "Lu-Lud-wi-wi-wig. H- he- elp. S-Some-one." His voice trailed off, and his hands tore at his hair again. "No. HELP ME!" He screamed, closing his eyes, and preparing for what would come next, but nothing did. At least nothing painful. Instead of sharp, jagged, even mismatched teeth tearing at his flesh, Italy felt a pair of string arms close around him. He would have screamed, and try to push them away, but the arms were warm. Comforting. So, there was no way there could be anything wrong with them. Besides, he knew the feel of those arms, and he knew it was something he wanted.

When Italy opened his eyes again, the mob of zombies, around him, were all laying down, dead. He was still shaking, his throat feeling dry, his face coated with tears. "Gr-Grand-pa?"

"VENI!" Germany hollered at him, dragging him to his feet, by his arm. "COME ON!" Italy was vaguely aware of where they were going, far too confused to really be paying attention. Was that really Grandpa Rome? Did he protect him?

Germany had dragged Italy into the camper, slammed the door, and threw him into the bench around the table. He was angry. Shouting in his face, words that he couldn't hear, over his daze. Something about listening, and he actually tried to pay attention when he heard his brother's name, but he had stormed up to the driver's seat and took off.

His ears were ringing, the edges of his vision looking a bit hazed as he looked around where he was. His eyes first landed on what looked like Hungary, silently sobbing over Austria's body. Upon this sight, he heard someone else crying. A voice that he didn't really recognize. At least not in its sad tones. Soon, he found the source, sitting on what seemed to be a couch that folded into the wall. Lithuania was holding his youngest brother, who was crying into his shoulder, trying to mend what looked like a dark red blot staining Latvia's clothes, along his left side. His effort to keep from crying was barely contained. Estonia was nowhere in sight, not even visible in the very back, where Belarus was sitting on one of the beds. She was hugging her knees, to her chest, staring at him.

Italy licked his lips, looking up front to see Germany was still fuming. Sicily and Seychelles were curled up together, in the passenger seat. His eyes went out of focus, mind drifting back towards the previous night. "Spain... Austria... Estonia... Latvia." His tears pushed through again, voice cracking as he ticked the names off on his fingers. "Ro-mano." His hands felt numb as well, continuing in a shaken whisper. "Five holes. Grandpa... why?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Aha, I suck on so many levels, right now. Plus, yea... I'm a betch. I've spent three days trying to get this one right, and I'm still not all that happy with it. Oh well. Let me know what ya'll think. Good night, peoples


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (And now for something completely different... ok not completely. This was actually going to be chapter 15, but after i wrote it, i realized the other one would be better to come first.)

"OUT OF MY WAY, YOU BRAINLESS WALKING MAGGOT FACTORIES!" The red eyed nation cried, easily slicing through the ever increasing numbers. Prussia hadn't seen another living soul since he'd left his home. Course, if they were living, it didn't seem to last long. He had set out to try and find his little brother, but only seemed to be succeeding in finding more obstacles. Frankly, he found them to be more annoying than actually scary. What was even worse, is that he lost track of how many he had killed. He had joked around with America, whenever they hung out, debating on who could kill more, when the zombie apocalypse finally hit. How was he going to prove how awesome he was, when they kept coming far too fast for him to count?

The rest fell dead at his feet, and Prussia wiped the blood from his sword, using his sleeve to try and clean the blood from his face. He sighed, aggravated, stepping over the corpses. "Why couldn't this wait a few years? Man, and I had just signed the lease for my new apartment. It's just not fair." Prussia rounded the corner, and saw another cluster of them. Instead of running for cover, which would be the logical thing to do, he hefted up his sword and yelled, "HEY!" Immediately drawing their attention. "You bastards owe me a safety deposit."

xXx

A few hours later, Prussia was perched on the bank of a stream, better cleaning himself, and his sword. He rounded the number he had slain to an even 200. That was respectfully generous, to his opponent, given how awesome he was. His eyes vaguely started to take in the surrounding foliage. "Alright, now... where am I?"

He was pretty sure he had wondered somewhere into France's territory, but there was no sign of his old partner in crime, nor anyone else. An odd fear suddenly hit him. "Yeesh, I hope I didn't accidentally kill him?" Prussia got to his feet, and walked through the stream, heading up the small incline to try and get his bearings. There didn't seem to be much up that way either, so he just kept moving, absentmindedly chopping down foliage, and stray zombies, in his way. There was only one or two, every few miles, so he could easily start counting up, from his estimate.

The sun was starting to set, and hunger was creeping up on him. There didn't appear to be much wild-life around, but he managed to find some berries to eat. Now that his stomach had tasted food, it wanted more. Before he knew it, the bush was picked clean, and he felt kind of sick.

After a short break to digest, as well as other things, Prussia started off again. The sun had long since set, and a steady fog was starting to roll in. Prussia rubbed his tired eyes, not seeing where he was going, and stepped off the edge of a steep incline. Tired, and caught off guard, Prussia rolled down the hill, knocking himself on the trees and rocks and such, losing consciousness before he even reached the bottom.

xXx

The sun shone through the trees, warming Prussia's body, to try and wake him up. He was sore all over, his head throbbing, and a sharp pain in his right side. The smell of wet grass pressed into his nose, trying to get him to wake up, as well as the birds chirping away at him. What the hell had happened?

Some kind of animal must have been nipping at his foot, which meant better food. Prussia's eyes gently opened, to try and identify his next meal, only to see it was an animal he didn't really like eating. A human, trying to bite through his boots.

Wait, a what?

Prussia yelped, for once startled at seeing one of them. His hand fished around for his sword, but it wasn't there. He looked around, finding it was lodged in a tree, out of reach. Well, he couldn't let this thing eat him, so he kicked it in the head, and crawled up to retrieve his sword, splitting its skull.

Relieved, Prussia slumped onto the ground, sliding back down the incline a bit, and sighed, "Zwei hundert siebzehn." A hand fell to the sharp pain, in his side, feeling what was unmistakably blood. He groaned in aggravation. "You've got to be kidding me." He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and checked the wound. This was obviously made from his sword. "Really? Ugh." Ripping off part of his shirt, to staunch the bleeding, Prussia forced himself to stand, and started off in the direction he was going. Cursing his luck, as he did so.

It's a good thing the numbers dropped to near zero the further he moved through the forest. He highly doubted he could fight full out, like he had before. Prussia soon came into what looked like a clearing, stumbling over a wire around the perimeter. "What the hell is this?" The wire had cut into his shin, and Prussia peeled back his pants to check. It hurt a lot more than it looked. More like a long paper cut. "What kind of place is this?"

"The kind that's been able to stay alive, till now."

Prussia looked back, and nearly jumped out of his skin to see the barrel of a shotgun right in his face. He jumped back, holding up his hands. "Hold on, don't shoot."

Denmark peered around the gun. "You're not bit, are you?"

Prussia paused to consider the question. "Not to my knowledge."

The gun stayed put, a bit longer, then finally fell. "Come on. Let's get you patched up." Denmark moved to take Prussia's arm, and took him up to a small farmhouse, in the middle of the clearing.

When they walked through the front door, Prussia was floored to see- Ukraine? She stood, from her seat, hands folded eagerly. "Is that Gilbert? Was he what set off the alarm?"

"Seems so."

Her concern for their safety shifted to a different concern, as she bounded over, with great bounce. "Oh dear, you're hurt. Come, come. Bring him in. I fix him up. Tino." She called upstairs. A short while later, Finland came running down the stairs, seeming as eager as ever to help. His eyes widened when he saw Prussia. "Hey. It's Gilbert. What happened to you?"

"I walked into a door." Prussia snarked, cocking a brow at him, as he was deposited into a rather soft chair.

Finland just laughed. "I highly doubt that."

"Tino, can you bring the medicine box, from the kitchen, please." Ukraine asked sweetly, starting to pull off Prussia's shirt.

"Sure thing." Finland smirked at how nervous Prussia suddenly looked, and headed off.

"Hey. I don't know if you should be doing that?" Prussia objected to his stripping.

Ukraine giggled, waving a dismissive hand to him. "Don't be silly. I have to get to the wound."

"Well, ja." Prussia's face started to redden. "I just don't think it's very civil."

"Oh please. You have nothing to be ashamed off." She winked coyly at him, amused that he seemed more embarrassed when she did. "Ahh, thank you." Ukraine chimed, as Finland handed her the first aid kit. Finland was smirking, heading back to where Denmark was standing, barely holding back his laughter. "I didn't think Gilbert would be so modest."

"Oh yes, he's such a gentleman. Just ask Mrs. Edelstein." They both cracked up, knowing Hungary would be the last person to think Prussia a gentleman.

xXx

Prussia was forced into bed rest, until his wound had healed. Dr. Braginskaya's orders. Apparently, when all of this started to effect her home, Ukraine had set out to try and find her brother. She claimed she had done fairly well for herself, but then was overwhelmed, when she got too far away from the farm, and found her family was nowhere to be seen. While she was escaping, she ran into Sweden, Finland and Denmark. The group decided it would be a better use to just fall back and focus on their own survival, instead of worrying about others.

They had set up the wire trigger alarm, around the twenty square miles of farmland, shifting between guard duties to inspect whenever the alarm was set off. With the open area, it was easy to snipe, if need be, but if there was just a couple, the small group preferred to kill it up close, so as not to attract attention. Sweden was currently in the upstairs room, monitoring the perimeter.

Norway had taken off, some time ago, in order to find Iceland. They assumed them both to be dead, then Iceland's puffin popped in, with a message of their safety. Apparently they had taken up refuge with Greenland, and weren't looking to abandon their post unless it were necessary.

"Hmm." Prussia sat up, sparked with an idea. Gingerly, he slid out of bed, and walked over to the window. Prussia peered down, as he was on the second floor too, then turned back up to the sky, and whistled. The sound echoed over the grounds, and Prussia looked out to see a small dot coming over towards them. Gilbird fluttered over to him, chirping excitedly. He had sent the little bird up, into the trees, so that he didn't get caught up in any danger. Gilbird waited for its maser's call, and seemed just as happy to see he was alive. Prussia held the happy yellow bird, in his hands. "Alright, mein Freund, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to go out and find my brother. Just find him, and let me know where he is."

Gilbird chirped, bouncing excitedly, and flew off to fulfill his new mission. Prussia leaned against the window, watching the little yellow dot disappear into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: WHOAWHOAWHOAWHOAHWHOA... whoa... Where the fuck did Prussia come from! (Hold on... caving to peer pressure, my friend has requested I post the rant I sent to her.) Alright... here I go.
> 
> So, this thing has completely come to be a mission, that I can't stop, and now the characters are not cooperating with me. I'm missing Mexico, because he was actually fun to write. He was only there to be a plot convenience character, because I needed someone to drive the van. I had intended for him to die in the third chapter. I knew how he was going to die. I knew what I wanted him to be. He was just supposed to live long enough to help Canada over the fence, and then was going to die, but I made the mistake of making him awesome (or at least fun to write) and now I'm pissed that he's dead, but now I can't do anything about it. HE IS THOROUGHLY DEAD! (a part of me kinda misses Cuba, but not so much.)
> 
> And now, Prussia's there. Where the fuck did he come from? He was supposed to be dead by the time they found him, with evidence of him being awesome all around him. Only dying because he had to, and now he's alive. ALIVE AND BEING AWESOME! I figured I could have him be awesome for a bit, then kill him the way I was going to show evidence to. Then he proved to be too awesome. Too much fun to write. So Prussia has to live. At least for longer than I intended. (Part of this has been edited for spoiler purposes.)
> 
> Why do I have no control over these characters?
> 
> Oh, and now there are Nordics. WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE NORDICS! (At least most of them.) I don't know enough about the Nordics to write them. Course they have to be with Ukraine, and makes it nearly impossible for me to just bomb them, and let it be over with. I need her to stay alive, even if she never does see Russia, during all of this. OH OH, even Netherlands is trying to fight his way in, but I said no. NONONO! I don't care if you're Canada's pot buddy, I don't need to keep adding characters. I'm just gonna have an endless cycle of having someone come in for one or two chapters and just killing them off. That's what happened to Croatia. Who's Croatia? I don't fucking know. Why did he have to force his way into this? It's why I had to kill him. I don't bode well with forced entry. HELP ME! Why am I still writing this? It's devouring my soul!
> 
> bleh
> 
> *pant, pant* hope that was as much fun for you to read, as it was to write. But seriously, dudes and dudettes, I've never written anything with such unruly players. ARGH! I think I need a break from this story. I'm also getting to a point where I should actually plan this out. I feel obligated to have a decent conclusion. (Not that it's concluding anytime soon.)
> 
> In case anyone hasn't really noticed (or cared) I've been learning German, and yes, have been showing off a bit. MWAHAHA PRUSSIA! What can I say, I luv the guy.


	17. Chapter 17

Twenty-two... twenty-three... twenty-four... twenty-five... twenty-six... America stood on the roof of the mall, counting off the zombies as they fell. He found a silencer, for his handgun, and had been wasting time, just killing off the ones in the parking lot. For some reason, he felt like he should have been keeping track, but resolved to just start off now. It was probably not that big of a deal. Frankly, he was surprised he could even shoot straight, with his arm still not fully healed. It was obviously still broken, and protested any movements, but he was getting far too sick of that stupid sling. A splint was still fixed against his upper arm, to hold the bone in place, so he was ok to move it. There wasn't even really any hindrance in movement... it just hurt like hell, but it was a hurt he could work with. America was really just happy that his other wounds had healed, particularly the large gash in his leg. When they finally had to move out, he didn't want anything to jeopardize his ability to move. Course, with his arm the way it was, his aim took a bit of a hit, but even that was improving, as these flesh eating cretins fell before him.

Shooting things always seemed to relax him, and as sick as it seemed, seeing the zombie's brains splatter was rather satisfying. They all deserved to die. One of them actually made a "bleh" noise, when it died, and America smirked. He stopped to reload his gun, and took aim on a red haired one, nailing it in the skull.

"Your mask is slipping."

America's eyes looked over as Russia walked into his peripheral, then glanced back to focus on the parking lot. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do." Russia commented, sitting on the edge of the roof. "That facade you put on, so that no one will take you seriously." He smirked, watching as the zombies below fell. "Not a tactic I would adopt, but to each his own, I suppose, but you might want to slip it back on. You have to be ready to fight, whenever we're finally ready to leave."

America sighed. "Yea sure. Well, this supposed 'mask' tends to slip off, during war time." He had just fired again, but his aim was thrown off a bit, when he was startled by Russia's laughter. A bit stunned, America's eyes narrowed on him, lowering his gun. "Did I say something funny?"

Russia folded his arms, smiling up at his old rival. "You actually believe we are at war?"

America's gaze softened into confusion. "Aren't we?"

"A war would indicate that both sides stand an equal chance of winning." His gaze drifted upwards. "This is a cleansing. Someone, up there, wants to wipe out the human race, and is sick of waiting for us to destroy ourselves." He turned back to America, who was staring down at the parking lot again. "These things are just a way to hasten the process. Eventually, we will all die."

They sat, in silent contemplation, then America's gun clicked, as he took aim again. "If you've already given up, then why does it matter if I'm ready to fight?"

"Just because I have acknowledged this, does not mean I am willing to accept. If I die, I will die after I kill at least one more."

America smirked. "Sounds like a plan."

"I got the idea from you. To fight, so that you can live." He finished, with an almost cocky smile.

"I suppose. Though I don't really want to stay alive, to protect myself. I just want to keep my family safe."

"That is stupid."

"How so?"

"If you die, then you can't protect anyone, and Matvy will be hurt. Probably Kirkland and Bonnefoy too." A small smile touched Russia's lips. "Me as well, believe it or not."

America couldn't help but laugh. "You're full of shit."

"Am not, full of shit. A part of me would actually miss you, if you die. Admit it, you miss me too."

America thought about it, for a bit, then grinned, nailing another one through the head. "Yea, I guess I would."

The two of them laughed lightly, and Russia turned to see America shooting them down again. "Shoot Adam West."

America scanned the parking lot, then took down a white haired zombie, walking around in circles.

Russia laughed. "I like you knew who I meant."

"Yea, but I kinda thought he looked more like Bob Barker." America stated, reloading his gun.

Russia shrugged. "I see where you get that." He scanned the parking lot. "There's one near the woods. Can you hit it?"

"Doubt it. This gun can't get that kind of range."

"Can I try?"

America looked over his gun, for a bit, then shrugged, handing it over. "Sure, knock yourself out." Russia grabbed the gun, took aim at a figure moving away from the woods, and fired. The bullet fell short, and he hummed thoughtfully.

"See, told ya."

Russia examined the gun. "That is shame. I have better plan." He passed it back to America and pulled out a bigger gun, taking aim.

"Whoa now. Hold on, Iv-" America was cut off, as Russia fired, dropping the zombie in an explosion of brains. The loud bang caught the attention of the zombies, in the parking lot, and a large number could be seen approaching them, from a distance. "Ivan." America sighed, openly face palming. "There was a reason I had a silencer on."

"I know." Russia chimed, holding his gun down. "But is better this way. The more come into this area, the more we can kill from here. The more we kill from here, the less can kill us later. Make sense, da?"

America considered his logic, then shrugged, shooting one down that was running at the wall. "Sounds good to me. Bet I could kill more than you."

Russia laughed as he hiked up his gun again. "You are on."

The two nations continued to shoot down their targets, counting off as they did so. They alternated on who was in the lead, as well as whether or not they said it aloud. It was a bit strange to have them both going so silent, Russia's voice trailing off before he even stopped talking. America glanced over at him, seeing a strange glint in his eyes. One that he never thought he'd see in Russia. Anger masking, what could almost be mistaken for tears.

"You ain't feelin sorry for these things, are ya?" America asked, trying to make it sound like a joke.

"Don't be a fool."

… "Then what's wrong?"

Before he could even finish asking, Russia was shaking his head. "Don't ask. I won't tell."

"Well, that's a bit unfair."

Russia cracked a snide smile. "Is life." They both shot, seeing their target jerk twice, against the bullets. "Sixty-four."

"No way." America protested. "That was my kill."

"You missed the head."

"Did not."

"We can go see."

"What?"

Russia waved his gun to the corpse. "Run out and see which bullet hit head. 245 Rubles, say I get kill."

America looked over the edge, wondering if it'd be worth it. "How much is that in dollars?"

Russia shrugged. "Around twenty, I believe."

"Hmm." He considered a bit longer, less willing now, but still hitched up his gun and dropped another one. "We'll see. Just stick to your side."

Russia rolled his eyes, but was smiling, his hand briefly coming up to adjust his scarf.

A short while later, Canada, England, and France ran up onto the roof, following the sounds of Russia's gun. "What are you two doing?" France asked, relieved once he saw the source of the commotion.

"Killing zombies." America answered, stopping to reload his gun.

"Stop making all that racket." England cried, pushing Russia's gun down. Do you want to get us all killed?"

"Niet. We are looking towards the future." Russia laughed, shooting down a couple more.

America laughed, and Canada walked up next to him, looking over the side. There was innumerable zombies laying dead in the parking lot, but the others didn't seem to care as they climbed over them. "Uh huh." Canada looked back at his brother, a bit confused. "So, this is... fun?"

"About as much fun as we can have." America held his gun out to Canada. "Wanna give it a shot?"

"Eh, no." Canada rolled his eyes, standing up, and trying to read his twin's expression. "You alright?"

Pew. America shot down another, that kinda looked like Justin Bieber. "Sure, fine. Why?"

"Well, I just... thought... oh, never mind." He leaned against the edge of the building, attention turning towards Russia. "Ivan, your sister's trying to call you?"

The news made Russia's bullet ping off the asphalt. "Is she?"

"Yea, Natalia's on the radio. She sounds pretty shaken."

"We've been looking for you." France continued. "Why are you two hiding up here?"

"We're not hiding." America answered, checking his pockets for more rounds.

Russia sighed, having to stop to reload his gun as well. "I don't have time to speak with her."

"Speaking of time." England commented, stepping away from Russia, and his big gun. "Have you filled Alfred in on the plan?"

"What plan?" America inquired, more interested in finding more bullets, at the moment.

"We were distracted."

Canada rolled his eyes, plucking a round from his pocket. "Here."

America beamed, taking it from him. "Ahh, you're the best, bro."

"Don't go wasting too much."

"There's more in the store." He answered, without much more care, easily reloading, and started shooting again. "So, what's this about you plotting, behind my back?"

England smacked him in the back of the head. "Will you be serious!"

"I am being serious." America retaliated, pushing him away. "I just asked what ya'll were planning, didn't I?"

"You're surely not acting like it." England growled, in his throat.

"We were looking through some of the stores, and found a SEARS that sold speedboats." Canada offered his explanation, mainly trying to diffuse another argument. "We managed to get one to start. Russia was supposed to be trying to find a vehicle, with a hitch, so that we can get it to the water."

"I have looked." Russia spoke up, in his defense. "I just thought I'd help Jones thin the enemy's numbers."

America smirked, considering Russia had been the reason there were more. "Well, there's a truck down there, that looks like it may have a boat hitch." He stated, pointing his gun to where he indicated. "But, how do you suggest we get the boat to it?"

At the question, everyone fell silent, even Russia stopped shooting. He had brought up a pair of binoculars, checking the truck America had indicated.

"Well." England began. "We haven't decided anything yet, but were thinking that someone would have to go out there, to get the truck, and then drive it into the loading docks."

Seeing as he wasn't going to say it, France decided to finish for him. "We were thinking you could be the one to go down."

The only acknowledgment they seemed to get from America was a small crease forming between his brow.

"This is only because you are the fastest, and Matthieu claims you can hot wire vehicles."

America cast a quick glimpse to his brother, who seemed to be trying to avoid looking at him. "I just mentioned it, in passing. I don't really want you to go."

"Na, it's alright."

"You're not going down there, alone." England stated insistently, nudging Canada aside. "I'll be accompanying you, as backup."

"Ivan and I will stand up here, for an overhead view of the area." France added, taking in the surroundings below. "Just to make sure you do not get pinned in."

After waiting for some kind of continuation, Canada moved in next to France. "So, um, what do I do?"

"You can come with me and Iggy." America offered, with a mocking laugh.

"Niet." Russia interjected, holstering his gun. "The door for the loading docks can not be left open, or else they will get in here. We will need someone to man the door. To open and close, when need be. That will be your post." When he finished, Russia was standing face-to-face with Canada, as though this were a direct order, and he dare not disobey. "Is this understood?"

"Uh... y-yea. Sure."

"Good." Russia started off, heading for the stair-well. "We do not have to start now. I will go to see what Natalia wants. Why don't you four see to killing our enemy."

The four nations watched him go, a bit confused. Their attention was diverted from the sound of America's gun clicking as he took aim into the crowd. "Is it just me, or is Ivan a bit bipolar?"

xXx

Russia tried to pay attention to what his sister was saying, but she was difficult to understand. Between her quickened speech, and crying, all he could hear was something about zombies killing people, and her wanting him to come get her, which he had already figured on his own.

"Natalia. Will you slow down, and speak?" He commanded, a knot forming in his forehead.

Belarus stopped briefly, her breaths sounding as though she was trying to calm herself down. "Big brother, I love you." She managed to get out, through the sobs.

"I know." Russia groaned, rubbing the knot in his head.

"Big brother, do you love me?"

He sighed deeply, falling back onto the bed he was sitting on. "Natalia."

"Please, say that you love me." She whined, still obviously crying, which was starting to pull on his heartstrings. He did love her, but he knew she would not take it the way he meant. "Natalia, I can't."

"Please, brother!" She cried, and sounded as though she was going to keep going, but was cut off by a long loud, high pitch series of sounds coming through the radio. It kinda sounded like the pattern you'd hear just before a voice came on to tell you, "This is only a test."

"Na-Natalia?"

"This broadcast is being streamed on all frequencies: All nations are to report to the Center for Disease Control in Tokyo, Japan. (Exact coordinates to follow.) Attendance is required. If you are not able to attend, you are obligated to maintain radio contact to verify either the need for safe passage, or your security. I repeat, all nations must establish contact, if not available in person." The message concluded with the longitude and latitude coordinates to the location, followed by what seemed to be a repeat of the message in Spanish.

Russia leaped to his feet, and ran back up to the roof. When he burst through the doors, France was the first to respond, considering the message was now coming through in his language. "What is that?"

"Our heading." Russia stated, holding up the radio. "We need to move. Japan is finally ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Phew, back into my safety net. I only call them that, because I feel like things flow a bit better, with this group. (Even if it's not true) There's a reason these five are together. I'll admit I'm a bit biased, especially concerning my favorite characters.
> 
> This list includes FACE (Mostly America and Canada) Prussia and Hungary. I do like others, but they hold a special place in my heart. (Though I am sad about Austria, but it's mostly because of Hungary.) Not a huge fan of Russia, but I like him around America. I have this very strange image of him being a snarky, condescending asshole, who actually cares deep deep DEEP down. Plus I'm a huge fan of opposition. LA, random info.


	18. Chapter 18

Belarus clung to the radio, which had gone dead, partway through the broadcast. She curled up, feeling a sharp pain in her stomach, clutching the radio in her hands. It wasn't fair. First she had to fight with Germany about using it, and now the line had to go dead. If he had just let her have it, when she asked, then this might not have happened. He let Italy talk to his brother, why couldn't she talk to her's? She didn't care if the battery would soon be run out, she needed to talk to Russia. Belarus clung to the radio, her crying having quieted a bit. Brother Russia could no longer hear her. All she could do was hold onto the last device that had held his voice. "Big brother." She sobbed. "Come back."

xXx

The battered group had slipped under a dark cloud. They had fallen asleep, as well as they could, the only sound being the engine humming, as Germany drove along, silently fuming. Italy was curled on the bench, his face buried in his knees. He might have been crying, but no one truly knew. Sicily had tried to get her big brother to speak, but he didn't seem to care that she was at least safe.

At some point, Hungary had carried Austria to the back room, laying him on their designated bed. She had allowed for Lithuania to remove the leaking fuel tank from her back, but that was about it. Now, she just sat by her husband's side, holding his hand, and staring down at the illusion of his peaceful sleep. She no longer spoke, her tears having dried up long ago.

Lithuania hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, either. He had wrapped up Latvia's wound, and suggested he needed to sleep. The two were curled up on the bed, in the back. Lithuania just held his sleeping brother. The dried tears, on his face, reactivated every time he heard him whimper. Latvia seemed to be in more pain, the further they went along. Each bump jarring him more and more, until his moans started to sound more agonized. Lithuania's breath hitched, running a hand through his hair. He kissed the top of his head, holding him closer. The motion was meant to be comforting, but seemed to only cause Latvia more pain. His eyes opened briefly, only long enough to free a few tears they seemed to be containing. "Mnn, Toris."

"Shh." Lithuania crooned, brushing his hair. "Just rest."

"It hurts, Toris." His voice hitched, whimpering a bit.

He didn't know how to respond. What was he supposed to tell him? It was going to be ok? They both knew it wouldn't, and he didn't want to lie to his baby brother. There was no point in that.

"I'm sorry." Latvia sniffed, curling closer into him. "You told me to stay inside, and I didn't listen."

"No. Don't start with that." He crooned, settling down to look him in the eye. "You did exactly what I expected you to do." Lithuania laughed lightly, brushing his hair again. "It's my fault for not tying you down. I should have known better, huh?"

Latvia smiled. "Yea, you should."

"See. I knew you were an insufferable pain, and should have factored that in. It's my fault." Lithuania kissed him on the forehead, so his brother wouldn't see he was crying again.

Latvia laughed, but was only reminded of how much it hurt to do so, soon starting to cough.

Lithuania continued to stroke his hair, until Latvia finally drifted off to sleep, again. He lay there, watching him, his hands wanting to shake, but there was no way he'd let it. After, who knew how long, he slid out of the bed, trying not disturb him. It didn't quite work, as Latvia greatly protested even the smallest of movements, but he didn't seem to want to wake up anymore.

Lithunia's hands raked through his hair, sitting on the edge of the bed. He took a few deep breaths, to steel his nerves then stood, making his way towards the front. There was an obvious effort to try and stop himself from crying, and he stopped behind the driver's seat. "Mr. Germany?"

Germany took a slow breath. "What?" He spoke a lot softer than the atmosphere would have expected.

"Is there any chance we can stop soon? I need to-to take care of my- brother." He tried to keep from choking on his words, but it didn't quite work.

Germany was quiet for a bit, then finally sighed. "Ja, fine. I need to stop for gas soon anyway."

"Thank you."

The hitch in his voice made Germany give him a backwards glance, but Lithuania was already heading towards the back. "How is he doing?"

Lithuania stopped briefly, his fists clenching. "I can't truly say. I don't know the full details of this disease, but, if I had to guess, I'd say he doesn't have much time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"It must be hard."

"I just don't want to see him suffer anymore."

"Understandable."

Lithuania looked in, towards the back to where Hungary was still sitting with Austria. "What of Mr. Austria?"

Germany sighed. "I suppose we'll have to take care of him, as well.

Upon this news, Italy lifted his head to Germany, then back to Austria. He hadn't thought of what would happen to Austria. If he turns into one of those things, what will happen to Hungary? She hadn't left his side, since he died, and didn't look to be doing so anytime soon. What if he woke up, and attacked her? Italy whimpered, squeezing his knees tighter. He couldn't stand to think what he would do, if he lost her too. Italy drew in a shuddering breath, burying his face again. There were so many things he wanted to say, but knew he couldn't. Germany was so mad at him, that he was actually afraid to speak. He didn't need anyone's sympathy anyway. It was his fault they were dead. If he hadn't run off, then they could have gotten out of there sooner... but he had to.

They should have just left without him. If Germany had just ignored him, then everyone would still be alive, and he would have found Romano. Dead or alive, he knew where he was. At least the direction he had to go to find him. Now he couldn't feel him at all. Everything was blocked out by sorrow, and that twinge of fear that just wouldn't go away.

xXx

About half an hour later, the camper finally pulled to a stop, allowing the remainder of their group to stretch their legs. At least that's what he claimed.

Lithuania had carried his little brother out to sit on the bench, outside the door, rocking him gently in his lap. They spoke quietly, pointing out images in the soft white clouds, floating overhead. Lithuania wondered how much Latvia knew of what was about to happen, though he didn't dare ask.

Germany was stalling as well with what he was about to do. He leaned against the side of the camper, letting the gas run, as well as his mind. There didn't seem to be any way he could think of to get Hungary away from Austria. They had no way of knowing when he'd wake up again, so he didn't need to stall forever. Perhaps, they could force Hungary away, but past history told him that might not end well. When that girl put her mind to something, there was no way of ever deterring her from her objective. Especially when it came to Austria. He was actually wondering if she even truly knew he was dead.

A hand ran through his hair, long since losing their neat slicked-back style. The gas pump clicked to tell him it was done, and Germany moved to set it back on. One good thing about the zombie apocalypse was that there was no need to pay for gas. The pump was back in place, and Germany trailed off in thought again. His head hit the siding, pressing the cool metal into the ache in his head.

They had all looked to him to lead them through this trail, but everything was falling apart around him. This little rag tag group was more rag than tag now, and he had no idea of how they were going to fall back into place. Everyone was either depressed, catatonic, dead, or dying. It took him to realize the headache was increasing, to make him notice his head was banging against the side of the camper.

"Ludwig?"

Germany looked up to see Italy standing a few feet away, holding his arms around himself. He looked so much smaller than he usually did. A look of hopeless fear mixed in his gaze. "Are you ok?"

All the rage Germany had felt melted out of him, at the sight of his friend. He was still a bit annoyed, but found he couldn't fully blame him, for his actions. Italy was panicked. Desperate. What would he have done, if it were his brother?

Without saying a word, Germany made his way over, and pulled Italy tightly into his arms. Italy was a bit stunned, a first, then gave in, burying his face in Germany's chest. A hand came up, tracing through his hair. "I'm sorry we couldn't find Romano, Veni. But, we can't keep looking for him." He felt Italy wince at the offer. "We can't afford to lose anyone else. Do you understand?"

Italy let out a shuddered breath, but nodded, muttering, "I understand."

"I'm sorry, Veni. Maybe when we find a more secure location." He held Italy at arm's length, but the smaller nation was looking down, wiping his eyes. "Hey, now. Don't cry." Germany brushed a thumb over his cheek, urging Italy to look up at him. "If that brother of your's can run half as fast as you can, I'm sure he's fine."

Italy looked up at him, trying to force a smile. "I guess he is." His attempts failed as he started crying again. He wanted to believe him, but was far more certain he knew otherwise. Germany pulled him back into a hug, letting him cry into his chest.

A bit later, Germany rubbed Italy's arm, drawing him back again. "Look, I could use some help with Hungary. Do you think you can help me talk her down?"

"I-I can try." Italy stated, trying to smile again.

"Come on." Germany's hand slid down Italy's arm, until it found his hand, leading him inside. They headed towards the back, to where Hungary was still sitting. Her wounds, from the night before, more prominent in the sunlight. There was a large burn, that had seared straight through her dress, stretching from her left shoulder to the small of her back. This attack must have been what damaged the gas tank, rendering the flame thrower completely useless. The fire had even burned off parts of her skirt, as well as her hair. There were numerous cuts along her open skin, possibly from the branches and brambles in the woods.

None of this seemed to matter to her. She only had eyes for her fallen.

"Elizaveta?" Germany began gently, kneeling down next to her. "Liz, can you hear me?"

No response.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep from agitating the burns. "Liz, I need to take Roderich."

She still didn't say anything, but there was a small incline of her head.

"Liz?"

"I got it." When Hungary finally spoke, her voice sounded as though she had once forgotten how to use it.

Germany stalled, for a bit, then eased slowly down, closer to Austria. "What are you saying?"

"He's mine." She said, barely above a whisper. "I got it."

Germany glanced up at Italy, who shrugged, as if to say he didn't know either. "Liz... we can't just let you stay here... Do you know what's going to happen?"

She still sat in silence. Italy walked over, laying a hand on her head, the way she usually did for him, when he was upset. "Liza?"

"Just leave me alone." The tone was quiet, but she had seemed to put up a barrier between them, that neither dared to even consider crossing. Germany even stood, backing away from her. He sighed, touching Italy's arm. "Come on, Italy." They started off, Italy close to his arm. "Let me know, if you need anything."

She didn't respond, but they still headed out.

"Are we just going to leave her?"

Germany sighed, raking his hands over his hair again. "I'm going to keep an eye on her, but there's not much we can do, now." His eyes found Lithuania and Latvia, still sitting on the bench, and they made their way over.

Lithuania was hiding his face in Latvia's hair, who had fallen asleep again.

Germany's hand fell on his shoulder. "Toris?"

Lithuania reacted as though he too had fallen asleep, but had no other signs to prove it.

"The longer you wait, the harder it will be."

Lithuania rubbed the tears from his eyes, his voice surprisingly steady, when he spoke. "I know." He ran a hand over his brother's head, coaxing him awake. Latvia groaned, opening his eyes. "Huh?" Still trying to keep from agitating him, Lithuania slid Latvia onto the bench, next to him. "Raivis?" He fought to keep his voice steady, but his hearing seemed far too distance to truly know if he succeeded or not. "There's no easy way to say this, but I um... you." He stopped to clear his throat." You're gonna-"

"It's ok." Latvia's hand fell onto Lithuania's head, making him realize he was staring down at his hands. The hand traced through his hair, trying to keep his own feature's straight. "I already know." His voice seemed a bit strange, but it was most likely from pain. His expression seemed to be a mix of fear and understanding. Almost like he wanted him to do it, but didn't like that he had to.

"Raivis." Lithuania sighed, gripping the gun he had long since laid against the bench. He raised the gun up to his head. "I am so sorry."

Lithuania's hands were shaking, unaware that the tip of the gun was slipping down until Germany pushed it back up to Latvia's head. Lithuania jumped, when he touched the gun, tears breaking his eyes. "Do you need some help?" Germany offered.

Lithuania sighed, drying his face, and shook his head. "I need to do this." He stepped forward, and kissed Latvia on his forehead, his hand brushing the back of his head. "I love you, Raivis."

Latvia smiled, but he had started crying as well. "I love you too." He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I'll be sure to let Eduard know, too."

Lithuania couldn't help but laugh, though it was quickly stifled by his tears. "You better." He lingered a bit, before pulling away, raising the tip of his gun back up to the center of his baby brother's forehead. Latvia took a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes. He knew this had to be hardest on his brother, so resolved himself to hide how afraid he truly was.

Italy had both arms wrapped in a vice grip on Germany's arm. His head lay against his shoulder, lip quivering as he attempted to stay quiet as he cried. It was hard enough to watch Lithuania have to do this. He highly doubted he could.

The two nations sat in silence, for what felt like forever. The gun in Lithuania's hands slowly became steadier. His breathing became calmer, until the loud bang of the rifle finally broke the silence, echoing for miles. The after shock seemed to last longer than it should have, but at least it blocked out the sound of Lithuania's cries, as he fell to his knees, clutching the gun tightly in his numb fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I lied. Apparently I can't take a break from this. Ahh well... I'm sure I'll be able to work on one of my others eventually. For now, I just gotta say that this was really a hard one to write, and I don't know why. All I can think is that the last scene was initially going to be between America and England. (Mainly because I kept thinking of the part, during the Revolution, where Iggy lowers his gun and says, "I can't shoot you." I keep wondering if he meant under any circumstances.)


	19. Chapter 19

"We'll be up here, to dwindle off any surrounding assault." Russia summed up, as the small group collaborated on the roof, readying themselves to head out. France and Canada were busy with setting up rope ladders. "You can go down from here, so there can be two out points. If you get overwhelmed, come either here, or go right to Matvy." Russia traced along the guns lined up against the side of the roof. "Don't be a hero." He added, smacking America on the back of the head.

"Hey." America protested, smacking at his hand. "I'm not. There's no reason for me to be."

"You always find reasons."

America had his original holsters positioned back onto his person, along with the two bats, hooked to his hip. England, on the other hand, was low on fuel in his flame thrower, and was forced to discard it for some of the extra holsters. He felt far more exposed, without the large tank of fire on his back. England leaned to look down at the parking lot. They had done a fairly good job at dropping the number, but there was still a bit more than he'd like. "A thought just occurred. Why are we doing this?"

There was silence, for a bit, before he turned to see the others staring at him. His face flushing lightly. "Well, we have established a safe location, and Japan said we could stay where we are, as long as we're safe. Do we really have to go out there again?"

"Don't be silly, Iggy." America stated, sliding the last of his arsenal into place. "Of course we do."

"Just think about this. What's the point of putting ourselves into danger again, just to travel to another safe house?"

"Is not just that." France responded. "We are assembling to asses the problem, and try to work out a resolution. If nothing else, the five of us have to be there. We can not simply stay in hiding, just because you are a coward."

"I'm not a coward." England growled. "I simply don't wish to exert unnecessary effort."

"So you're lazy."

"I am not."

"Stop it, both of you." Russia interjected, pushing them back from each other. "I do not want to hear the arguing. We have bigger problems to be focusing on."

They both seemed to want to continue, but smartly bit their tongues.

America couldn't help but laugh at them, shaking his head. "Do you two ever stop fighting?"

"Shut up." They both snapped, but it only incited America to laugh again. "There ya go. Did ya see that, Matty?"

"I did." Canada finished tying off the rope ladder, and stood, folding his arms with a smirk. "For once, they seemed to agree."

"Well, it doesn't take much for us to agree that you should stop talking." France sneered.

"Never gonna happen." America sang. "If I stop talking, I might just explode."

"Oh yes, that would be terrible." England stated sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"All of you, shut up." Russia cut off anyone who might have spoken next, shoving what looked like a screwdriver into America's chest.

America looked down at the device. It had a thick handle, with a nob on one end, and what appeared to be a small tuning fork sticking out the other side. "What's this?"

"If door is locked, you are to use this. Do not break glass, since we might need it. Just jam it in the lock, then push nob in. It will break lock, for you to open door."

America examined the small tool. "Cool."

"Are you ready to head out?"

America pocketed the tool, and saluted. "Yeppers."

England looked over the side again. He took a deep breath, and hitched up his gun. "Let's get this over with."

"Good. Matvy. Head down to loading docks, and be ready."

Canada stood a bit straighter. "Yea, I'm on it. You two be careful, down there." He hesitated slightly, then threw his arms around both of them in turn.

"Chill out, Matty. We'll be alright." America stated, pushing him back to arms length.

"Just make sure to come back safely." Canada backed away, then took off to take his post.

Apparently, the younger nation's concern sparked a sharper fear in England. He was staring over the side, eyes widened on each zombie, his imagination kicking into overdrive. A hand fell on his shoulder, and England nearly jumped out of his skin. "Are you ready, Kirkland?"

He spun around to see France, but found he was unable to be angry through his newly sparked anxiety. "Uh, well - I."

"What's wrong? You seem anxious."

"I-I'm not anxious. I was just thinking that um-" He glanced back over the side. "Perhaps there's another way to accomplish this. We already found a boat. There might be a vehicle in here, somewhere."

France cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why, Arthur, you truly are scared?"

"No."

"Come now. If you have something to say, you are better off saying it."

"I'm not scared, I just... I'm a little... well..."

"You know, ya don't have to come."

"What?" England started, looking over at America.

America looked to be ignoring him, throwing the rope ladder over the side. "This isn't the time to be lying. If your scared, you can always stay here." He glanced over at him, the slightest hint of condescension in his expression. "To be honest, I'd probably do better, if you stayed here. You'd only slow me down."

A brief moment of shock, along with contemplation, then England scowled. "Don't be an idiot. There's no way I'm letting you go out there alone, and that's final." He was leaning up into America's face, growling as he spoke. "And I'm not scared." With that, his fear was pushed aside, by determination. He climbed down the ladder America had previously thrown over.

America grinned over the edge, watching him climb down, and start shooting down the zombies closest to them.

France chuckled. "That was a complete reversal."

America smiled, knowingly, his fingers rubbing the dog tags hanging from his neck. "Ya gotta know how to talk to him." He pressed the tags to his lips, then tucked them into his shirt. He threw his leg over the side of the roof, and slid down the ladder. Once he hit the ground, America whipped out the machine gun, and plowed the set down, that had been drawn by England's gun.

"Come on, it's close." America lead the way, to the truck, jumping over corpses. They had kinda formed a disheveled wall around the perimeter of the mall, from where the group mowed them down from the roof. A certain corpse caught America's eye, and he slowed down to inspect the body.

"What are you doing?" England called, skidding to a halt. "Come on, ya Git."

"In a sec." He knelt next to the body, spotting a hole made by a small caliber bullet. There was no point in checking further, since it didn't have a head. "Ah, crap. Coming." America scrambled to his feet, and joined England, who had pulled further ahead.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"Losing."

"What?"

"Never mind."

There wasn't too much resistance between them and the truck, but once they'd stopped, the zombies could catch up a lot easier. France and Russia were definitely doing their part in assisting England. Though one of them did come a bit close to hitting him. "Alfred! Hurry up!"

"I'm on it." America tried the handle, to find it was open. He was relieved he didn't have to waste time in using it, but a bit disappointed he didn't get a chance to. Not particularly liking to let his guard down, America jumped into the car, ripping open the panel under the dashboard. He kept one eye on England, who kept moving in and out of his vision, feeling both exposed and paranoid, as his fingers fiddled with the exposed wires. The protective casings were pulled back to try and connect properly. America touched two of the wires, reveling at the sound of the engine starting. "YES!" He twisted the wires together, the short spark burning his fingers, but he didn't care. The truck had started.

"IGGY! GET IN!" America called out, sitting up in the seat.

England called up for him to go, jumping into the bed of the truck.

"Hold on." America shifted the gears and slammed his foot down on the accelerator, knocking out a zombie that was trying to crawl in, and successfully closing the door. He spun the wheel, barely avoiding the other vehicles, as he made his way around the mall, and on towards the loading docks.

Considering their targets were out of sight, France and Russia ran down to meet up with Canada, in case any managed to get in.

Canada had stacked a pile of boxes in front of the door, watching the parking lot through one of the windows. He could hear the wheels screeching against the asphalt, and scanned the area for any sign of the truck. As America rounded the corner, he laid on the horn. Canada slammed his hand onto the button to lift the door. The door barely cleared the top of the truck, as he came screaming in, and skidded to a halt. Canada hit the button to close the door, then jumped from the box, running towards the truck.

"YEEHAW!" America cried, leaping out of the truck. "That was awesome! I now know what Mexico saw in running over those suckers. It's very effective."

The anxiety finally settling down, Canada couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head at his twin's recklessness. "I don't know why I was worried."

America started away from the van, when something tripped him up. He fell heavily on his good arm, and looked to see a zombie hand clamped onto his foot. Apparently, it had been lodged into the undercarriage, and didn't like being run over. Before he barely had time to react, a crossbow bolt nailed it in the brain. America kicked the still clamped hand off, and scrambled over to where Canada was still aiming at the zombie. They were both panting from shock, eyes widened on the new corpse. A short while later, America laughed, clapping Canada on the shoulder. "Nice shot."

"Y-yea... You ok."

"Yea." America walked back over, plucking out the bolt, and carefully checked under the truck. That one seemed to be the only one. America stood back up, with a sigh, spinning the bolt in his fingers. "Woo. Whatta ride."

France and Russia ran in. France scanned the area, then sighed from relief. "Good to see everything turned out."

"Sure did."

Everyone else seemed satisfied, but Russia started to feel uneasy. "Where is Kirkland?"

America jabbed a thumb back towards the truck. "He's in the back." When he saw England wasn't coming out, he made his way back. "Yo, Ig. We're back in. You don't gotta... hide." When he made his way to the bed, his expression melted back into fear. England was leaning against the cab, holding a hand to a wound on his left on.

"ARTHUR!" America vaulted into the bed, and dropped to his knees next to him. When he went to grab his arm, England jerked it away growling, "Don't touch it, you bloody yank!"

"Just let me see." America insisted, catching his arm, before he could pull it away again. He peeled back his sleeve, looking over the bite. England definitely protested, but that could have been the pain. The bite took out a large chunk from his skin, to the point where you could start to see a bit of the humerus poking through. "Oh, hell no."

The other three had gathered around the bed. "Tell me that's not what I think it is." Canada gasped, jumping up as well.

Tears started to form in the corner of America's eyes. "I wish I could." He looked up at England. "How did this happen?"

England jerked his arm back. "I don't hardly know. It just did." He snapped, not liking the pitying look the twins were giving him.

America ran his hands through his hair. "God damn it, Arthur."

"Enough of this." England groaned, making his way off the bed. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't." America called, following him. "Do you not realize what this means?"

"I bloody well know what it means." England yelled, spinning around on him. "But, as I said, 'It doesn't matter.' There's nothing we can do about it, now is there?" The finality in his tone was startling.

"But." A tear ran down America's cheek, making England feel a bit embarrassed. "There has to be."

England stared at him, shocked to see America showing legitimate concern. "Alfred."

"There has to be." His determination sparked up again, and his voice felt stronger. "You can't just give up, like this. Lutz said Vash was working on a cure. We can cure you."

"Alfred, he's working on a cure. There's no guarantee there will be one, and even if there was, there's no way I have that kind of time."

"But we have to do something."

"There's nothing to do."

"Maybe there is."

All heads spun around towards Russia. He seemed to be contemplating something.

"There is?"

"I have idea. Bring him to pharmacy." Russia started out, and the other three were left to drag England along. He really didn't want to drag out any delusions Russia might concoct, but they were very insistent.

They met back up with Russia to see he was setting up an area that looked like he was getting ready for surgery. "Lay him on the cot."

England was definitely protesting now, but they still weren't listening. "Wait a tick. I don't think I want to know what he's doing."

"Sure you do. My plan is simple." Russia made his way over, the flame-thrower slung on his back, and an ax spinning in his hand. "Arm is infected. Cut off arm." He swung the ax, grinning. "No more infection."

"Brilliant!" America exclaimed.

"FUCK NO!" England cried, trying to get up, but his loving family wasn't letting him even sit up.

Canada pushed down on his chest, very tempted to sit on him. "Hold on. Will this really work?"

"It's worth a shot, right?" America interjected.

"But, my arm."

"What's an arm, over your life." France cut off.

Russia pulled the flame-thrower from his back, and cranked it just a little bit, so as not to produce a big flame. "We get ax red hot, to cauterize wound. Then arm is gone, and you no bleed out. Seem simple, da?"

"No."

"But if it will save you, we should give it a shot."

"We're not letting you just give up, Arthur."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"No." All four of them shouted.

"But I don't think I like the idea of Ivan coming at me, with an ax."

"I'll do it." France offered helpfully.

Almost immediately, England started fighting to get up again. "Let me go. I'd rather die."

"I'd rather you not." America clamped onto his arm, shoving his shoulder back down. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll do it."

"Not much of an improvement."

"Well, you don't like Ivan or Francis, and Matty sure as hell won't do it."

England turned imploringly to Canada, who shrugged. "He's right."

"I'm your only option."

"Well, not my only option."

"Shut up."

"Fine by me." Russia stated, holding the ax out to America. "We'll, hold him down. Try to get as close to the shoulder, as you can."

"Alright." America turned on the flame thrower, and started to heat the ax, while the other three got into position. Since England was continuing to protest, they couldn't even take a hand off him. Russia moved down to his legs, since he'd resorted to kicking. "You can't just cut off my arm. If you cut off my arm, I'll be completely useless."

"That is nothing new." France sniggered. "You are always useless."

"Shut up, Bonnefoy." England yelled. "This is not a joke."

"I disagree."

"Francis, please." Canada sighed, trying to diffuse the argument, since England was getting increasingly difficult to hold. "Lay off."

"You ready, Iggy?" America asked, holding up the ax.

England stared wide eyed at the red metal. "Could I at least get some morphine, or something?"

"No can do." Francis answered, holding his left arm out. "We don't know how the drugs will react with the virus."

"I'll try to make this fast." America announced, lining up the ax. It at least helped to see he was just as uneasy about this as England was.

Canada wadded up a roll of gauze. "Here, bite down on this." He held his head to the side, trying to keep it from getting caught up in the swing, gripping onto his other hand. England gritted his teeth around the gauze, squeezing his eyes tight. He slowly drew in a breath, and held it until the hot metal finally sliced through his arm.

England gritted his teeth and let out a muffled scream, his hand squeezing Canada's with near crushing force. His screams mingled with sobs, the gauze falling from his mouth. Russia released his legs, grabbing the syringe, and stuck it into his shoulder.

America had dropped the ax, moving to his side. "Just hang in there, Iggy. You'll be ok."

"FUCK ME!"

It was about this time the France realized he was now holding a severed arm. He cringed, dropping it on the ground.

Canada traced his free hand through England's hair, whispering softly to him. England just whimpered, tears coating his face, until he finally lost consciousness.

America sighed, drying England's eyes with his sleeve. Tears sparked in his own. "You're going to be ok."

xXx

England was staring up at the darkened ceiling for far longer than his tired eyes realized. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a pulsing ache. His teary eyes scanned the area to see they had moved him back to the furniture store. It must have been late, considering it was dark. There was also the sound of snoring somewhere off to the side. He was fully brought back to his senses when he felt something on his right arm.

England turned his head over to see America had latched himself to his arm, like it were a teddy bear. His fingers were loosely laced through his own. Head resting on his shoulder, as he slept. A smile crept onto England's face. He tried to reach a hand over to him, only to be reminded he no longer had another hand. England sighed, resolving to squeeze America's hand.

America sighed, gripping his hand back, and curled in closer. He muttered something, but England couldn't quite make out what he said. England sighed, his gaze falling down to his bandaged shoulder. It was so strange. It felt like his arm should be there, but he couldn't see any trace of it. His eyes shifted back up towards the ceiling, ready to wake up to this being a dream. If not, this was going to be a real pain. Definitely would take some getting used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Aww, Iggy. I was trying to think of who I could hit that would effect all four of them. The only options seemed to be Canada and England. I hadn't really done much with Iggy, so he had to lose his arm. Tragic. Now I'm just trying to decide why France is being such a pain. Oh well, he'll be more sympathetic, when I come back to them. He just can't let them know he cares. And Russia will get some luv too.
> 
> Alrighty, folks. I got one or two more chapters. (Depending on how long the next one runs) Then I gotta actually stop and try to plan some stuff out. And the next part with actually be relatively happy... y'know, all things considered ^^;


	20. Chapter 20

Romano stumbled through the woods. He had long since lost the ability to run, but there was no way he was going to stop. A broken stick had torn blisters into the palms of his hands. The sounds of the zombies scraping against the side of the building was still ringing through his ears, along with the girl's hysteric cries. Romano was harboring a severe limp, and he didn't even know why. There was barely an awareness of where he was going, or even how long it had been since he lost Spain.

"Antonio?"

He had been so concerned with the enemy that the sound of his old caretaker's voice barely registered. A hand grasped his arm, pulling him closer, "Lovino... listen to me." There was surprising strength behind his grip, despite the weakened tone of his voice. "You need to live, ok. No matter what happens, I need to know that you're alive."

"What the hell are you on about?"

Spain winced, from the barely contained effort of holding himself up, his hand having crept to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Lovino. If only I were stronger." His voice cracked, pulling Romano's head down to meet his lips.

Romano's eyes widened in shock, but he couldn't bare to pull away.

The pressure of Spain's lips slowly fell away. Romano was left stunned for a while, before his anger finally sparked. "Where do you get off kissing me, you bastard?" When he didn't respond, Romano grabbed the front of his shirt, shaking him. "Don't ignore me. What do you have to say for yourself?" It took him a bit longer to realize Spain wasn't responding to anything. His breath hitched, the reality threatening to fall into place. "Antonio?" Spain's head dropped back, mouth and eyes falling open. Romano's breathing quickened, and he shook Spain again. "Antonio! What do you think you are doing? You are not aloud to die. Wake up. Antoni- whoa." The slant of the roof, and Spain's weight being jarred, he started to slide off the edge. "NonononononoNO." Romano tried to hold onto him, but he was too heavy. They both slid right over, into the fray.

"ROMANO! SPAIN!" Sicily cried after them, but she could do nothing to help.

Romano shook his head together. His blood stopped cold in his veins, at what he saw. They seemed to multiply, at this angle. "Antonio?" He had completely forgotten about the driver, which he'd most likely dropped somewhere, clinging to Spain. "Antonio, wake up." Tears poured from his eyes widened on the crowd of zombies, shaking from the cold chill spreading through his body. This wasn't happening. "You're supposed to protect me, you asshole." His voice was weak, face falling into his shoulder. Maybe if he didn't watch, Spain would wake up and make them go away. "You can't just leave me."

Everything after that just seemed to fall into a heavy haze. He vaguely remembered the girls calling out to them. Yelling for them to run, as he made his own way out. Spain had been wrenched from his arms, by who even knows. The zombies thrown from his path. Some unknown force dragging him along. At some point, he had acquired a large stick to try and bat any away. It was now broken, and quite sharp.

Even though there was no longer any zombies around, Romano still didn't stop. He ran until he was tired, then walked to regain his stamina. No matter what, he could not stop moving. Any time he wanted to, something would grab his arm, and push him forward. A familiar voice continued to egg him on. It told him he had to keep moving. There was something ahead.

Finally, Romano's legs fully gave out. The thought of what had happened to Spain fully settled onto his shoulder, pushing him to his knees. "Antonio." He started crying, ignoring the presence urging him forward. "NO COME BACK!" He screamed, clutching the stick to his chest. There was some startled twittering, accompanied by the fluttering of wings. "YOU'RE NOT ALOUD TO LEAVE ME BEHIND, LIKE THIS!"

The presence that had been pulling him along, seemed to fall away, letting him stay where he was. Allowing him to cry. Even though no one was around, Romano felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him. The wind mimicking the voice that had been urging him on. Why this voice sounded so familiar was lost in the confusion of how badly his chest was hurting.

It just wasn't fair. Why did all of this have to happen?

Soon, he could hear something rustling, in the nearby foliage. The protective arms fell away, leaving him all alone. His fingers wrung the stick, readying himself to take out whatever dare attack him.

A figure ran into the clearing, and Romano swung at it. To his surprise, the figure managed to avoid the stick, and knocked him away. Romano hit the ground, but was determined he was not going down that easily. He sprang to his feet, and went after it again. Somewhere in this scuffle, something hit him across the head, knocking him out.

xXx

He was dead. That had to be the only logical explanation to what had happened. Maybe he ran into a tree or something, and the zombie ate him. Good thing he was unconscious for it. Being eaten by zombies just seemed like it would hurt. The only problem with being like this was that his mind couldn't seem to focus on anything. It was just a confusing scramble of recent events. Everything cultivated into a mix of pain. Getting chased by the zombies. Trapped in that cathedral, then the pharmacy. The fear and anxiety that was constantly weighing on his chest. They had lost Croatia, then everything seemed to fall further apart. Zombies, Spain, Sicily, Seychelles, Croatia, Veneziano, Grandpa Rome. All a vague haze that seemed to be surrounded by zombies.

"He's coming around."

Zombies everywhere. Although, none of them ever seemed to be able to get him. Except now. How did this random zombie, that he couldn't really see, be the first to get him, when no other could? It had to be that Spain was protecting him.

"Antonio." Romano whimpered, twisting the stick in his hands.

But what about after he was gone? How did he get away from the pharmacy, without getting bitten, or even scratched? It was like something threw the zombies aside, making room for him to run. There had to be something for him to do. Somewhere safe to go. Someone who could protect him... if he weren't already dead. Or was he? His heart was certainly hurting enough for him to be alive. There was even someone touching him. A gentle hand tracing though his hair.

Romano whined, forcing his eyes to open, to see who was there. The figure came into view, and he was shocked to see who it was. Tears traced from his eyes in relief. "Grandpa?"

"You'll be ok, dear. Is safe here." The image of Rome faded away to prove it was a woman. He thought he recognized her as Russia's sister, but he wasn't too familiar with her. His voice shuddered, barely registering that the stick in his hands was softer than it should have been. "You're not my grandpa?"

Ukraine sighed, wringing out a cold washcloth and placing it on his forehead. "He's got a fever."

Romano's eyes felt heavy again, wanting to fall back asleep.

"You did not have to hit him so hard."

"Hey, you weren't there."

Romano's eyes opened again. He recognized the voice, but couldn't place it.

"Brother dearest was nearly going to take my head off. This boy ist crazy."

"You?" Romano's eyes finally landed on where Prussia was standing in the doorway. "You're that damn potato eater's brother."

Prussia snorted. "You're always such a pain. It's Ludwig, and my name is Gilbert. Say it with me, now. Gil-bert."

"I don't care."

"That's gratitude for the guy who saves you're sorry ass."

Romano's eyes widened. "You saved me?"

"Yea." Prussia made his way closer. "Gilbird told me you were wandering around, in the woods." He held up a hand for the little bird to settle down, and scratched his belly. "So I went out to get you. But I told him to find my brother."

Gilbird cheeped, not seeming ashamed of what he'd done.

"Yea, yea. Now, follow my orders." Prussia threw the little bird up, and he flew through the window again.

"So." He flopped down on the bed. "What have you been up to?"

"Gilbert, please." Ukraine crooned. "He's been through a lot. He still needs rest."

"I just asked what he's been doing."

"Not everyone is enjoying the end of the world as much as you, Gil." Denmark jibbed, leaning against the door frame. "Some of us are actually having problems."

Prussia lifted his chin. "Eh, that's just cause you're not as awesome as me."

Denmark laughed. "No. We're just not as psychotic as you."

"Oh, like you're one to talk about psychotic."

"You don't even know me well enough to-"

"Shh."

They both fell silent, when Ukraine shushed them. Romano was laying curled up on the bed, asleep. She motioned for them to leave, and the nations started filing out of the room. Prussia was the last to start out.

"Do you know where Veneziano is?"

Prussia stopped, and looked back to see Romano was watching him, still clutching the sheets.

A ping of pity hit him. He could see the same fear reflected in his eyes, that he had felt himself. The only thing he was afraid of. The uncertainty of not knowing where Germany was.

"I haven't seen him." Prussia sighed, turning to fully face him. A smile crept onto his face. "But I'm sure that's only because I haven't found Ludwig yet."

Romano moaned, curling up smaller. He didn't seem at all reassured with the thought of his baby brother with Germany. Something was still wrong. His chest was still hurting. Losing Spain seemed to make everything become too real too fast. If Italy wasn't in his sight, then he couldn't feel at ease.

Prussia made his way over to stand next to the bed, and moved the rag back onto his head. "I'm sure he's alright. Lutz won't let anything happen to him. He'd... die before he would let him get hurt." Prussia tried to hide how he choked on the word, and slumped on the bed. "They're ok."

"Veni is in pain."

"What?" Prussia looked down to see Romano had pulled the covers up under his tear filled eyes.

"He's in pain, and I don't know what's wrong. He could be dying, and there's nothing I can do." He sobbed, drying his eyes with the sheet balled in his fist. "It hurts, and I can't make it stop."

Prussia was starting to feel uneasy. He never dealt too well with crying. "It's not good to panic, until you know."

"But I do know. Veni's in pain. I can feel it."

"He's probably just sad. I'm sure he's just as worried about you, as you are about him. That worry can be painful."

Romano shook his head, still not convinced. "It's not just worry. Veneziano's in pain."

Prussia sighed. There was nothing he'd say to break him out of this. "Still... could be-"

"Can you just leave me alone?" Romano spoke softly, but Prussia cut off as though he'd snapped.

… "Yea, sure." Prussia got up and started out. He stopped in the door, glancing back to see Romano roll over. The rag fell off his head again, and he threw it against the wall, curling into a tight ball.

"Just get some sleep. I'll let you know when Gilbird finds them."

When Romano didn't see fit to respond, Prussia exited. Once the door was closed, Romano's muffled sobs started up again. Prussia brushed a hand over his face, falling against the door. If he didn't find a way to cheer him up soon, he might start to bring him down too.

xXx

They gave Romano a few days to rest, but there was nothing that seemed to be able to get him out of bed. He had completely given up. Refusing any attempts to cheer him up. They told him about the radio transmission Japan put out, and tried to convince him Italy was going to be there. Again, he didn't seem to want to indulge any theories, unless they knew exactly where Italy was.

The group started to put most of their effort into deciding whether or not they should go. Thy didn't really liked the idea of having to leave their area. Except for Prussia and Sweden, none of them were truly strong fighters, and felt they'd lose more with leaving, than they would if they stayed. Especially since Denmark was the most intent on staying. Japan had put out an announcement of how the nations could maintain radio contact with the stray survivors. They could stay in the loop that way.

"You can choose whatever you want, but I'm going." Was Prussia's feelings on the matter. There was nothing that could make him choose otherwise. "I know, if Lutz is alive, that's where he is heading. I have to know. I need to see him, with my own eyes, and I'm not going to give up until I do. Now, if any of you want to come with me, I'd take you."

"That's kind of you, but I think we're staying." Ukraine sighed, standing up to check on dinner. "I do ask, that if you see my brother and sister, to let them know that I'm ok."

"Can't see why not."

"Puffin's the only way we've been able to communicate with Lukas and Emil." Denmark spoke up. His hands were resting on the table, twisting his fingers together. He felt he understood why Prussia was so determined about seeing his brother. He desperately wanted to go out to find Norway (The closest thing he felt he had to family.) but knew it wouldn't do either of them any good. At least he knew he was safe. "I'd like to stay where they can contact us. I don't think they have a radio, so they don't know about this."

Finland sighed. "We won't have that much influence anyway. It won't make any difference if we stay or go."

There soon came a pecking at the window, cutting off further discussion. Prussia rushed to let Gilbird inside. The little yellow bird fluttered onto the table, and started preening his feathers. Prussia sat down, poking him for information. "Well? Did you find him?"

Gilrbird chirped hopefully, and Prussia jumped to his feet, a wide grin spreading on his face. "You did? Where is he?"

"Cheep cheep."

"Is he alright?"

"Cheerp."

Prussia took a deep breath, sighing it back out as he fell back into the seat- relieved. His hands raked through his hair, surprised to find that he was shaking. He looked back up to the little bird. "You have to take me to him."

"Cheep."

"Hold on." Ukraine cut him off, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You can't leave before you've eaten."

"But."

"It's almost done." She smiled, stepping away. "I'm sure Germany can hold his own for a bit longer."

xXx

A few hours later, Prussia was preparing to leave. Ukraine insisted he bring food with him, which mainly just seemed to give him more stuff to carry, but he appreciated the offer.

"I'll see if there's some way to transport you all safely."

Denmark punched him lightly on the arm. "We'll call Japan and let him know what's going on."

"Be careful out there." Ukraine said, beaming. "I don't want to hear that you've been eaten.

Prussia laughed. "They can try." He started to turn to leave, when a new figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Did you say you found Germany?"

It took Prussia a moment to figure why Romano was asking about him. "I did... and Gilbird says Feli's with him."

There was a spark in his eyes that asked his question before it was finally vocalized. "Can I come with you?"

Prussia grinned, amused that he even bothered asking. "Can I stop you?"

"Probably."

His expression fell slightly. That answer was a bit unexpected. "Get your ass over here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: YAY! I would just like to point out a few things.
> 
> 1\. I did not ever say Romano was dead. I simply stated that he ran away. Italy assumed he was dead.
> 
> 2\. Rome was protecting Italy... why would he not protect Romano? That would be showing favoritism, and that's just mean. Especially under these circumstances.
> 
> So, there will be one more chapter. I decided this is better done from the other angle.


	21. Chapter 21

The rain had started very suddenly, washing away the last traces of blood. Lithuania sat curled up in a blanket, staring out at the spot where his baby brother now lay, under the freshly dug ground. He couldn't make out anything through the mist permeated from the heavy rain. Kicking up dirt and water at the sight of each impact, but he knew where the grave was laid.

The group had found a few shovels out back of the gas station, and helped him bury Latvia. He wasn't even fully aware of when he'd moved. The gunshot had left his ears deaf, the heat from the barrel spreading through his hands until his entire body felt numb. At some point, he must have fallen to his knees, seeing as how the figure that landed next to him seemed to be stooping. Perhaps he was even crying, but nothing else registered for him.

There was a small tap on his shoulder, but Lithuania didn't even care enough to bother to look up. His fingers absentmindedly picked at the blisters on the balls of his hands, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. He knew this shallow unmarked grave was not a worthy resting place for his baby brother. There had to be some way to get him to a safer location. Although, this thought was made far more painful with the knowledge that he had lost Estonia so quickly. Without even a trace of where their middle brother had gone, or a hint if he were alive or dead. As much as he would like to move Latvia to a better location, at least he had him somewhere he could find later. Perhaps he could come back, when everything was sorted out.

… If it got sorted.

Lithuania jumped, when something slammed into the dirt in front of him. A wooden cross stood at Latvia's head. Inscribed in it were letters that made his eyes burn again, but nothing came of it.

Latvia – Raivis

Another thunk hit to shove in another cross.

Estonia – Eduard

Lithuania felt a cold hand close around his heart. He raked his teeth over his bottom lip, and finally looked up to see Italy standing over the crosses, securing Estonia's into place. Italy took a bit to realize he was being watched, and smiled. It was a partially strained smile, but as genuine as he could possibly muster. Italy made his way over and knelt in front of Lithuania, wrapping his arms around him. Lithuania didn't particularly feel like being touched, at the moment, but lacked the strength to abject.

They weren't sure how long they sat there. Two minutes. An hour. Five hours... half. All either of them could think of were the ones they had lost. Debating on how sorry they should feel towards themselves before it were unfair for the other.

Italy was the first to become aware of the sudden drop of humidity in the air. The cooling temperatures before the rain finally started to fall. Italy spent a few moments just staring up into the falling drops. He closed his eyes against the rain, relishing in how it cooled his heated face, mixing with his tears. Once the rain started to fall hard enough to sting, Italy turned his face back down. "We should take cover."

They still didn't move until Germany called out for them, and Italy helped Lithuania make his way inside.

To keep from catching cold, Lithuania just wrapped himself in the blanket, and perched by the window to watch the rain fall through his reflection. His mind continued to wonder incoherently about everything that had happened. Wondering what their next move was going to be.

Germany was keeping watch on Hungary and Austria, twirling a hand gun along his fingers. He looked as if his mind was somewhere else, but his eyes were still keenly fixed on the couple. It didn't make any sense. Austria had been gone for nearly a week now... why was he still dead?

Many other bodies they'd seen had woken up rather quickly. Were nations different? Could the effects of the zombie virus possibly have a difference in their body than in their citizens? Was that what Hungary was waiting for? This was, after all, the first chance any of them have had with this experience. Could she truly be thinking clear enough to comprehend such possibilities?

"Have you heard from Japan?" Germany jumped with the sudden question, realizing that he hadn't heard Lithuania's voice for a while. He cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts together to register the question. "Nein. I have not heard a thing since he last called. Nor from Russia's group." He sighed, examining the gun in his hands. "My phone has even died, and there's no way to charge."

Lithuania's brief glance in his direction fell back out the window, to where the storm was dying down. "Any idea's on what to do next, Captain?"

Germany was rather unnerved by his new demeanor. Lithuania wasn't usually an outgoing, or even upbeat being, but he always had a bright tone to his speech. A small chime of hope was always there, no matter what had happened, but not now. The spark was completely gone, leaving his voice deep and stagnant.

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure." Germany rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wandering over to where Italy was fast asleep, snuggled up with Sicily and Seychelles, in a mix of thick blankets. "The radio is completely dead, and there's no way for us to get in contact with anyone else." He started twirling the gun again, watching as the dim light glinted off the end. "It seems we're stuck."

Lithuania made a strange noise that could almost be misconstrued as a laugh, if he didn't choke on it. "Well, we're right fucked, aren't we? I don't suppose we could just head there on our own, and wait for him to finish with whatever he is doing?"

Germany dropped his head forward, running his hands through his hair. "I don't think it's going to be that simple. We're really far away from the coast, out in the middle of nowhere, and quite frankly, I don't know which way we need to go." Germany laughed short. "I don't suppose you have a compass?"

"Afraid not."

The last traces of the setting sun started to peer through the rain as it began to let up. "Perhaps if we moved a bit, we might find one."

"I suppose. If we can manage to locate a town."

"Seems likely... What's that?"

"What's what?" Germany looked up to see Lithuania's eyes narrowing at something off in the distance. He stood and moved to see a small dot hovering around the horizon, just over the trees The dot was kind of slumping in it's flight pattern. As it grew closer, the little dot started to form a color, as well as a coherent shape. Germany felt his heart fly up into his throat. "It's Gilbird!" He exclaimed, and ran for the door.

Italy awoke, with hearing his friend's cry, and jumped up, startling the two girls. "What is it? Ludwig?" He looked up just in time to see Germany slam the door open and run out. "Veni, keep an eye on Liz!"

"Ludwig!"

Germany belted towards the little yellow bird, who had stopped to take a drink of water from one of the puddles. Gilbird shook the excess water from his feathers, and started preening in between drinks. With a deep huff, Germany splashed into the mud, scaring the Scheiße out of the little bird. "Where is he? Where's my brother?" It kind of startled him how suddenly desperate he felt. In a way, he had resolved Prussia to be dead. Far too concerned about keeping his group safe, to even give notice to focusing on his own fears, but the recent events sparked the concern. Watching as Italy broke down, from the death of Romano, and Lithuania having to shoot his own brother, after loosing the other had caused more terror in him, than he'd thought. Now, seeing Prussia's animal familiar suddenly gave him hope that he was still alive. So much so, that he'd probably drop dead if he found it weren't true.

Gilbird hopped about, almost like he were ready to fight, until it finally registered who was addressing him. The little bird fluttered up, cheeping excitedly in his face. "Where's Gilbert?"

"Cheep cheep."

"Answer me you lästigen gelben Schmerz im Arsch!" Germany cried, snatching for the nimble bouncing ball of feathers.

"Ludwig, what's wrong?" Italy called to him, running out of the camper.

"I told you to stay inside!"

Italy stopped, feeling suddenly nervous. "Well yea, but I just wanted to see-" His voice trailed off, unsure.

Gilbird, however, chirped in joy at seeing Italy. He bolted over, startling Italy, and spun around the small nation at top speed. Italy took a bit to even register what the yellow blur even was. "Is that..." He stopped, and fluttered up to snuggle in his cheek. "It is." Italy laughed, hugging him tight. "Aww Gilbird. Ludwig, it's Gilbird." Italy smiled to his friend, who was now standing, but the look on Germany's face wasn't as pleased. "Ja, I know."

Germany made his way over, inciting Gilbird to flutter out of Italy's hands. "Now. Tell. Me. Where. Gilbert. Is." He emphasized each word, more threatening than the last, but the little bird didn't want to pay him any mind. He was far too happy to see them, and didn't care that Germany was angry.

With one final peep, Gilbird flew up, over his head, and started back towards the woods.

"HEY!" Germany cried, taking off after him. "You stupid bird! Get back here!"

"Ludwig, wait."

"You better lead me to him."

On that note, Gilbird shot down, and spread his little wings wide, in front of Germany, stopping him in place. He fluttered there for a bit, the small dark eyes taking on an almost daring expression. Gilbird drifted down, and drew a line in the mud with his tiny talon. Germany just watched, dumbstruck, as he fluttered back up, and chirped shortly, in a way that sounded very like Prussia, before taking off again.

Italy slowed the last few steps, looking after the bird, then up at Germany. "Are you ok?"

Germany suddenly became very aware that he was panting. "I... I don't understand. Is he alive or not?"

"I'm sure he is. He must have sent Gilbird here to find you."

"I don't know." Germany closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. "I haven't heard any word from him. I know my brother is strong, but... he was also alone. I know Gilbird was telling me to stay here, but was he channeling Gilbert, or was he going to get him?" His voice started to trail off into an internal argument. Debating on the presence of the bird being an indication of Prussia's safety or not. Perhaps something had happened. Perhaps Prussia had sent Gilbird to find him, but why wasn't he with him? Was he holed up somewhere safe, or was he just not able to move? If so, why couldn't he move? Knowing his stupid brother, Prussia was probably hurt somewhere and just wanted to know that he was alive. Being too stubborn to worry about himself. Could this really be true, or was he giving him too much credit? Was he actually looking for him? He had to be, if Gilbird was here. Although, maybe he was already dead, and the bird was just carrying out his final wish. What could that entail?

"Ludwig?"

Germany could feel his every nerve shaking now. His body felt hot with rage, but was still shivering. His palms stung from where his nails dug into them.

"Ludwig, please don't. We need you to stay here."

He had to find out. He hated to leave the others behind, but the camper was too wide to fit through these trees. There weren't that many around here, they'd be alright without him, and he alone.

"Ludwig?"

"Veni, listen to me." Germany suddenly spun around to him, gripping his shoulders. "I have to go."

Italy wined, shaking his head.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Don't say that. Don't go."

"Just stay inside, and don't open the door. Don't come out for anything. Don't draw any attention to yourself."

Italy was crying again, still shaking his head, whispering small objective pleas.

"Keep an eye on Roderich. I don't know what Elizaveta is going to do, but don't make any rash decisions."

"no."

"Let it play out, but if he's going to hurt anyone, you have to shoot him. Do you understand?"

Italy's lip trembled, tears running down his face. "Don't leave." He had to take in another deep breath, to try and continue to speak. "Ludwig, please, don't go. I don't want to be left behind, you're all I have left. Please, don't go. Please, please, don't go." He was barely coherent by the end, his voice too shaken and quiet to be audible.

Germany felt the vice in his chest tighten. "Feliciano." Italy was the only reason he would stay, but Prussia might be in trouble. He couldn't just abandon him, until he knew for sure. "I'll be back."

"No!" Italy cried, "No, you won't. You won't come back. They never do."

"Veni." Germany drew the sobbing nation into his arms, feeling his tears soak the front of his shirt. His eyes drifted out towards the woods, barely catching the bobbing speck in the distance. If he didn't leave now, he'd never find Prussia... but Italy. "You'll be alright."

"I'm not worried about me, idiota!" Italy screamed up at him, taking a step back. "I don't want you to go out there. I don't want you to be alone. I don't want you to die like... like..." The desperate glint never left his eyes, which were now flooded with tears. He turned his head downward, brushing his eyes. "Romano was alone. He was alone, and scared, and... and..." He trailed off, shaking as his fingers gripped tighter to Germany's arm. "I don't know what happened to him." Italy's head fell against Germany's chest. "I should have gotten there sooner. Maybe then he'd... he'd be..." His arms gripped like a vice around Germany, holding his desperately. "It hurts, Ludwig. My chest hurts, and I'm scared, and I can't lose you too. I don't want you to be alone and scared, like he was. I don't want to be sitting here, scared of what may be happening to you. So please... don't leave."

Germany held his friend, a hand resting on the top of his head. His eyes fell back towards the woods, realizing he had lost all sight of Gilbird. Without a beacon, he had no clue of knowing which way he should go. What path would lead to his brother. Even more so, he knew there was no way he could leave Italy like this. If he left, Italy would keep screaming. Most likely wouldn't go inside, and would probably have a whole hoard of them on his tail in no time. There may not be any sign of zombies around, but that didn't mean they wouldn't show up. Plus... Austria dead, Hungary and Lithuania were not in any condition to deal with problems, Belarus had been sleeping, nearly dead to the world since she last spoke with Russia, and he certainly wasn't going to expect much from Sicily and Seychelles.

They all needed him.

Germany sighed, holding tighter to Italy, his face pressing into his hair. "Ok... I'll stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: GOD DAMN IT GERMANY! Don't scare me like that. You were supposed to be a good boy and wait for Prussia to show up, not try to run after the freaking bird! Italy, I just want to hug you right now. Thank you thank you thank you for not letting Germany leave. aw man... you have no idea how happy I am that Italy was there. Phew... ok... just need a bit to calm down...gah
> 
> Fucking Germany!
> 
> Yea, apparently, my brain has gone into filler mode, before I can get back to the main plot... which is good, because, for me, filler is just getting everyone to Japan, so yay. It will extend the suspense, and do what I need to. Hopefully, by the time they all get to Japan, the plot holes will fill in my brain. c'ya soon.


	22. Chapter 22

"o/ Ghouls to the left of me. Zombies to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you. o/" Poland sang, spinning his sword in his hands with the grace of a baton twirler, as he marched along the country side. It was a little strange, what with the zombies and all, but he didn't seem to find it that difficult to maintain. Sure some of them had gotten their hands on him. Scratches, bruises, abrasions, even the occasional break, but nothing seemed to slow him down. Any problems healed up right away. How he hadn't been bitten was a bit of a mystery, though.

Now all he had to do was head to Japan, with the others.

xXx

"Will you slow down, already!" Romano called ahead, having to heave himself over the numerous branches and logs and such in his attempts to keep pace with the newly restored vigor of Prussia.

Prussia just laughed. "I'll bet an Italy has never had to say that before."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means your fast." Prussia spun around, swinging his sword lazily as he did so. "In everything you do. It's a compliment." He faced forward again, looking around for Gilbird. "Fast at running. Fast at eating. Fast at being afraid." Prussia smirked. "Probably even fast in bed, brother dear. Kesesesese."

Romano flushed in anger, nearly flying over to Prussia. "I'll have you know I am an amazing lover. I am not fast in anything."

"Obviously not in the thinking." Prussia continued to grin, both from relief that Romano had gotten his spirits back, and just the joy of mocking his sensitive comrade. Pushing Romano off, Prussia examined the trees and found he'd lost all signs of his little yellow friend. He sighed, and whistled for him to come back.

"Don't ignore me, you son of a bitch."

Gilbird flew down, fluttering in front of his master, with a look of inquiry on his face. "Slow down a bit, mein Freund." He jammed a thumb back at Romano. "We need to make sure the dead weight can keep up."

"Oh you can bite the fattest part of my ass!" Romano screeched, fuming at this insolence.

Prussia laughed, following Gilbird's lead. "Don't tempt me. I do have a mighty sharp bite."

"FUCK YOU!"

"There's no time, for such things. Now come on, or I'm gonna leave you behind."

Romano fumed, then stamped his foot, his stubbornness taking over. "Fine. I didn't want to go with you anyway."

"Suit yourself." Prussia waved a hand back, suddenly a lot farther away than he was a moment ago. His voice echoing in the abandoned woods.

Romano watched him go, torn between his stubbornness and the desire to not be alone. Also, Prussia was supposed to be leading him to Italy. A smirk crossed Romano's face. In that case, Prussia would have to come back to him. Italy would be so upset, if he found out Prussia had just left him out here, all alone. Then Germany would get mad, for Italy being upset, and he'd get mad at Prussia, then he'd have to come all the way back out here to get him... wait a minute... something about that logic seemed wrong.

There was a rustling in the nearby bushes, which turned Romano's blood to ice. His head slowly turned in the direction of the bush, to see it shaking. His body started to shake from the thought of a horrible monster jumping out and eating him. The bush scrambled, but Romano was too scared to run. Suddenly, a rabbit jumped from the bushes, and Romano shrieked, taking off after Prussia. Leaving the small critter to nibble on the nearby clovers.

Prussia could barely contain his amusement as Romano lunged forward and latched onto his back. "What the hell do you think you're doing, leaving me behind like that, you bastard? You're supposed to be protecting me."

"When did I ever sign up for that job?"

"You're the strong one, so you have to protect me."

"Yea sure, whatever." Prussia tried to pry Romano's hands from his neck, but the smaller nation wasn't budging. "Get off, ya leech."

"No." He stated, clinging tighter. "I'm sick, so you have to carry me."

"You're not sick."

"I'm injured."

Prussia was starting to get annoyed. "Alright, you. I've had enough of this Scheiße. Get off."

Before Romano could abject further, Gilbird let out a high pitched screech.

"What was that!" Romano cried, burying his head in Prussia's shoulder, but Prussia was suddenly alerted to their surroundings. There was a small cluster of zombies filing in on them. Nothing he couldn't handle, of course, but there was a small hindrance. "Hey, get off." He hissed at Romano.

"What? No." Romano lifted his head to see the zombies and screamed again. "YAAH! HELL NO!"

The zombies really seemed to like the sound of his scream, cause they started walking faster. At least as fast as they could manage. Prussia continued to try and pry him off, actually getting nervous. "Seriously. I need you to get off." But Romano was whimpering, his grip tightening with each attempt Prussia made to remove him.

One of them lunged forward, and Prussia managed to dislodge his arm enough to slice through its head. His eyes whipped around to the others, forced to make a decision. "Alright, then. If you're not letting go, hold on."

"What?" Before Romano could protest, Prussia leaped forward and nailed two more in one huge swipe. It was difficult to adjust to moving, with the added weight... not to mention the screaming in his ear, but soon they were all laying dead, all around him. The added strain the weight caused, formed a stitch in his side, and Prussia dropped a hand to it.

"BEHIND YOU!" Romano screamed, and Prussia whipped around to knock it out, agitating the pain further. Prussia spun around, searching for stragglers, and found there were none.

If he may borrow a line from his American friend. "Like a boss." Prussia chimed as he beamed at his handy work.

"What?" Romano looked around at the sight. His face turned green. "You dared to fight these things, with me here?"

"You wouldn't get off."

"You could have ran."

Prussia scoffed. "Nah, not my style."

"But." Romano began weakly, his body clinging in more. "They could have eaten me." He whimpered, and Prussia was shocked to see he'd started crying again. "I don't want to die."

I twinge of guilt, for his annoyance, hit Prussia square in the stomach. "You're not gonna die." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry so much. I'll protect you." He started off again, not even bothering to dislodge Romano from his back. Although, the Italian nation did adjust himself to a more tolerable position. "If nothing else, I'm far too excited to see how happy Feliciano's gonna be, when he see's you."

Romano eyed him suspiciously. "You're excited, about that?"

"Of course. I like seeing little Ita happy." Prussia cackled, mockingly. "I actually like that one."

Romano frowned. "You're an asshole."

xXx

Off, in the distance, there was a low rumble of thunder. Prussia's eyes drifted off to the dark clouds, in the distance, then back to Romano, who looked as though he had fallen asleep on his shoulder. "Alright, now. You gotta get off." He sighed trying to throw Romano off.

Romano stretched a bit, (Which was a feat, considering he was still hanging from Prussia's shoulders, and smirked, without even bothering to open his eyes. "What's wrong? Is the awesome Prussia too weak to carry me?"

"No. The awesome Prussia is getting pissed at how ANNOYING YOU ARE!" He snapped, and Romano finally dislodged himself, out of fear.

Prussia heaved a heavy sigh, and sat down on a fallen log, rubbing the back of his neck, a hand landing on his wide. "Let's rest a bit." Gilbird fluttered down to settle on Prussia's knee.

Prussia smiled, scratching his feathers. "How much further?"

Gilbird flitted up, and chirped excitedly. Prussia sighed. "Well, that's good, at least. Fly ahead to make sure they're still there." Gilbird raised his wing in something like a salute, and took off. "And be careful. There's a storm coming." He called after him, getting a peep in confirmation

Romano sunk down next to him, watching as the yellow dot disappear in the distance. "What'd he say?"

"Just a few more miles. They're somewhere along the outskirts of a town."

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Romano jumped to his feet, charged by a sudden burst of energy. "Let's go get them."

"Hold on, now. Don't get too carried away. It's not good for us to keep going." Prussia moved to stand in front of him. "We need to look for shelter."

"Why? When they're so close?" Romano had a new spark in his demeanor. It was kind of strange to see him so adamant about doing something. Then again, Prussia never had much exposure to Romano, and the only times he had seen him, he was trying to avoid housework, or looking for food. Or, of course, the occasional times when he was harassing Germany about his brother.

But, he had never before actually see him want to do something so bad. Especially when it involved actual work. "Don't be rash. I sent Gilbird ahead, to make sure they were still there, and it'd be no use to even start off, until he gets back."

Romano rolled his eyes, and huffed, stomping his foot. "Why did you have to send him off then? We could have just followed to see for ourselves."

"We needed to stop for a while, so what does it matter?"

"It matters because, I need to get to my brother!" Romano growled, advancing on Prussia like he was actually going to do something. "I can feel that he's in pain, and obviously that sausage sucking brother of yours isn't doing a damn thing about it."

"Ludwig is doing everything he can, for Feliciano." Prussia growled in return, raising himself to full height. It was bad enough Romano had questioned his awesomeness. He wasn't gonna tolerate any insinuation about Germany. "We have no idea what's going on, but I'm sure mein Bruder can handle it."

"Mio dio, he can handle it?" Romano was shaking with rage and a sharp pain piercing his chest. Why wasn't he understanding how much he needed to get to Veneziano? "Then tell me why my brother's pain keeps getting worse? Why is he letting him suffer? Why does it feel like Veneziano is dying!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Prussia took in a deep breath to try and calm himself. He didn't get angry that often, why did this one seem to push all the wrong buttons? "I don't know. Maybe he's scared, maybe he's hurt, maybe even someone he cares for is hurt." Prussia swallowed at a lump in his throat. If Italy really felt like he was dying, because someone else was hurt, there was only one nation that came to mind. His concern was evident in his voice, when he spoke again. "Or, he's worried. I have no idea. I want to get there just as quickly as you do, but it's no good to keep traveling, right now. There is a storm coming, and we need to find shelter."

"I'm not afraid of rain. Now, call your bird back and have it lead us to them, right now!"

Prussia's hand snapped to the front of Romano's shirt, and dragged him closer. Any courage Romano had mustered instantly died down from the sparks spitting from those deep red eyes. "You have a lot of nerve for someone who's only half a nation." Prussia spat, in a low growl. "Now, shut up and listen. In this environment, a storm will leave us without any visibility, and just put us in danger. We're no good to either of them, dead. So, make yourself useful, and help me look for shelter."

"But I just-"

"Ich schlage vor, musst du den Mund halten." Prussia growled through gritted teeth.

Romano fell silent. He had no clue what Prussia said, but something about his tone told him to keep his mouth shut. There was a bright crack of lightning, and a curtain of rain rolled in over them. The rain dulled their annoyance, and they both turned their heads up to face the rain.

Prussia slowly released Romano's shirt, leaving him feeling numb. He hated to admit that Prussia was right. There was nothing to be seen for any extended space. His head fell down to see his feet sinking in the quickly muddied ground. Tears began to trickle from his burning eyes. It was a good thing it was raining. He was getting rather sick of Prussia seeing him cry.

"Come on." Prussia stepped away, nudging Romano's arm to get him to follow. "At the very least we can bend these branches to make a covering."

Romano sniffed, trying to dry his face, but the rain made it impossible. The conviction, in his voice, faded to a small shudder. "Ok."

xXx

Prussia managed to pull the branches of a few low trees together, and tied them off with some vines. He threw his coat over the top of it, to try and help block the rain. Not exactly water proof, but good enough, for what they needed.

They dug out the soggy food Ukraine had generously forced upon them, and started eating. At least one of them had. "You really should eat something." Prussia commented, holding out a sandwich to Romano.

Romano watched the rain splatter, his knees drawn up to his chest. "I'm not hungry."

Prussia rolled his eyes, and grabbed Romano's hand, forcing the sandwich into it. "Shut up and eat."

Romano cringed at the offer. Seeing the poor condition of this food made his appetite die down further.

"This is no time to be picky. Just eat the damn food."

With one more final groan of disgust, Romano took a bite out of the sandwich, his eyes drifting back over the ground. He caught the sight of a couple figures moving through the rain, not even seeming to care about the environment. Instantly realizing what these figures must be, Romano's chest froze over. He was about to scream, when Prussia's hand snapped over his mouth. "Shh. They don't know we're here." He whispered in his ear. "Just keep quiet. I'll take care of them, if they change direction."

Romano gripped tightly to the hand over his mouth, curling further into Prussia's arms. Prussia slowly reached his other hand around to grip his sword. Ready for any change of direction as they wandered around the area.

A couple of them didn't even seem to know which way they were initially heading. Wandering around in circles, feet sloshing through the mud. Apparently their visibility was diminished by the rain as well. Numerous times the zombie's heads turned towards them, but didn't approach.

Romano was doing his very best not to run or scream, but he couldn't stop shuddering. Every time he let slip even the smallest whimper, Prussia's grip tightened over his mouth. "It's ok." He whispered, his lips right against his ear. "Just stay calm." Romano finally tore his eyes away from the zombies to look at Prussia. There was an intense focus in his eyes that made Romano even more nervous.

The rain began to let up, making Prussia nervous as well. Not only would the zombie's visibility improve, but the rain masked their scent. Every time he had tried hiding from these monsters, they had always seemed to find him. For so long, he couldn't figure out how, then he realized how they moved. The way their heads, and occasionally noses twitched, in their pursuit. They could smell him. Granted he could smell them, but perhaps it worked both ways. The zombies could smell life on him. Slowly, the zombies began to wander out of sight, and the two nations let out a sigh of relief.

"Are they really gone?" Romano asked timidly.

Prussia's eyes scanned through the surroundings, once more. "For now." He sighed, though still seemed reluctant to release his sword. As the rain fully cleared, Prussia's eyes grew sharper to their surroundings. They were not going to surprise him, again.

"What do we do now?"

Prussia started to pack their things. "We wait for Gilbird."

Romano didn't like this idea. He obviously wanted to leave now, but had learned it best to keep his mouth shut. Instead, Romano curled his legs into his chest, chin dropping on his knees.

Prussia noted the drop in his demeanor and sighed, rolling his eyes. "He should be back soon."

A lot sooner than even Prussia expected, Gilbird made an appearance. Prussia stepped out from under the covering, and held out a hand to retrieve him. He stroked the bird's soft damp feathers, as Gilbird started preening. "Are they still there?"

Gilbird cheeped, puffing out his chest.

"Good." He pet him, watching as the little bird rocked its head against his touch. "Do you need to rest, mein Freund?

Gilbird made a kind of soft coo, and fluttered up to rest on top of his head.

"Ok, then." Prussia headed back towards the shelter as Romano dragged himself out. "Hold on. He can't rest." He whined, not seeming too happy of this situation. "That bird has to take us to Veniciano."

"He can instruct me, from up there." Prussia commented, plucking his coat down, and started to wring it out. "When he's rested, he can fly on ahead."

Gilbird cooed again, forming a nest in Prussia's hair. Prussia slung his coat around a branch and twisted it, to assist in ridding it of the excess waster.

Romano looked around the area. "So, they're still there?"

"Ja. Gilbird says they seem to be waiting for something."

Romano inched closer, glancing around nervously. "Like what?"

"Don't know." Prussia unwound the coat, and slung the still damp fabric back over his shoulders. "I guess we'll find out, when we get there." He decided to carry his sword, this time, and grabbed Romano's arm, leading him along. "Stay close."

Romano was thrown off, by the sudden tension of his actions. Was Prussia actually scared, or was he just being cautious? What was he thinking? Of course he was just being cautious. I mean, Prussia? Scared? The very idea of it was absurd. Romano looked over at Prussia again. The look in his eyes made him nervous again. It would be better if he weren't scared. Romano felt he was afraid enough for the both of them. He didn't need for Prussia to lose his cool.

They walked for a couple hours, without incident, stopping periodically to rest. What was strange is that Prussia needed to stop more than Romano. Even Gilbird, having taken back to the air by now, found this to be odd, and was getting concerned. He fluttered around his master, chirping lightly. Prussia shushed him, between his short breaths. "Stay quiet." He drew in deep breath, and cringed, his hand falling to a stitch in his side.

Romano held a hand out to rest on Prussia's shoulder, but thought twice and drew it back. "Are you ok?" He asked softly, his nerves growing, with concern. Mainly from fear of being alone again. His mind drifted back to Spain, and was suddenly very afraid that Prussia might die. "G-Gilbert?"

"I'm ok." Prussia held a hand up to him, annoyance growing at the sharp pain in his side. "It's ok, I'm fine." He straightened up, and smiled to his bird. "Go on ahead. I'm right behind you." Hesitantly, Gilbird flew on up. If nothing else, Prussia liked having him up there to be a lookout.

"Come on." He urged Romano to follow, starting off again.

They walked for what must have been probably about half an hour, then Prussia stopped again. He dropped a hand against a tree, trying to catch his breath. Granted Romano was tired too, but nothing like this.

"Come on. You can make it." Romano urged, actually grasping his shoulders this time. "You have to keep moving."

A large grin slid onto Prussia's face, and he laughed lightly. "Are you actually worried about me?"

Romano scowled at the insinuation of him not caring. "I don't want you to die."

"You just don't want to be alone." Prussia snarked, straightening up again.

Romano's shoulders slumped. "Yes, well, that too, but I-"

He was cut off when Gilbird bolted down to them, fluttering in front of Prussia, and chittered excitedly.

"What?" Prussia gasped. His eyes snapped around at their surroundings. He wasn't sure if it was the zombies he saw earlier, or a new batch, but they had found them. "Scheiße." His head snapped back up to Gilbird. "How far is it?"

Gilbird chirped his response, as Romano drew closer to Prussia trying, without much success, to keep an eye on all of them. "G-Gil-bert?" He screamed, when a hand clamped around his wrist, and snatched him away from Prussia.

Prussia instantly sliced the hand holding Romano, and slammed his sword through his skull. He spun back to Gilbird, and shoved Romano towards him. "Lead Romano to Ludwig!"

"What?" Romano's eyes widened on him, in shock, Gilbird chirping his own disapproval. "But I-"

Prussia killed two more, and winced at the pain in his side, blood seeping through his clothes. He whipped around to them, and screamed. "JUST RUN! I'll be right behind you!"

Romano just watched Prussia, in silent shock. He was tired... and bleeding. Why was he doing this for him? Gilbird pecked Romano sharply, in the head, and squawked at him. His eyes burned. Afraid to run away, and leave Prussia, but also afraid to stay. Prussia took down one that was heading for him, and grabbed his arm. "I SAID, RUN!" He shoved Romano along, and Gilbird took off through the trees. Only a seconds more hesitation, and Romano ran after him.

He felt sick to his stomach. He never felt guilty about running from anything, but Prussia was sacrificing himself to save him. He said he'd be right behind him, but who knows how plausible that could be. That idiot. Why would he do such a thing? Romano looked up to make sure he hadn't lost the little bird. Gilbird's wings were going a mile a minute. Desperate to get to their destination. That was it. He had to reach Germany. He had to tell him what Prussia had done, and hope he made it back in time to help. Romano stepped up his pace, and found he was running right under Gilbird's lead Barely avoiding tripping over stumps, and trees limbs, and bushes. The damp brush was slippery, and Romano stumbled a few times, in his haste, splashing mud up over him.

They finally made it out of the woods, and found he could pick up speed, now that he was unhindered. Over the distance, a vehicle started to come into view. Next to it, two figured, walking back to the large vehicle, with their arms around each other. With a leap of his heart, he recognized one of them as his little brother. That had to mean the other was Germany. His destination in sight, Romano found his voice. "LUDWIG!" He cried, the effort completely draining his breath. Romano took in another deep breath to try again. "LUDWIG, HELP!"

Gilbird chirped loudly, to try and help.

Italy's head snapped up, his heart nearly stopping in his chest. "I know that voice." His head whipped around to the figure closing in on them. "But it can't be." Tears slid from his eyes. "Romano?"

"LUDWIG!"

"ROMANO!" Italy cried, both nations running back to meet him. Germany was happy to see Romano was alive, but was far too concerned at seeing the little yellow bird, once again, without his master.

The Italian brother's threw their arms around each other, and Romano collapsed onto the ground, exhausted, dragging Italy down with him. Italy wouldn't detach himself, from Romano. He flew into a string of inquiries, as Romano tried to catch his breath. Both crying, desperately.

Gilbird fluttered around Germany's head, chittering. "Where's Gilbert?" He asked, his chest seizing up again. "Where's my brother?"

"He's-" Romano gasped, trying to catch his breath. Germany's attention instantly snapped to him. Romano pointed back towards the trees. "He's back there." His throat felt as though he had swallowed glass. Dry, and possibly bleeding, from his harsh breaths. "He-stayed back so-so I could get to you." He took in another breath, finding it much harder to do so, not that he'd stopped running, but he had to tell him. "He's hurt." Romano cried, desperately, his face now coated in tears. "Please, help him."

Germany didn't have to be told twice. (Or even once, for that matter.) He took off towards the woods, the twittering bird pulling ahead to lead him. Italy called after him, but it was obvious he was not leaving his brother's side.

What the hell was that idiot brother of his thinking? Why would he do something so stupid? Staying behind and taking on God knows how many of those damn things? Germany's eyes burned in desperation. For fuck's sake, he could already be dead. If he died, Germany was never going to forgive him. He might even have to re-kill him. The reality of that sentiment actually being true, made Germany feel sick. Tears actually started to slide from his eyes, increasing his desperation.

Germany's hand snapped to his waist, only realizing he had left any weapon he had back on the camper. "Scheiße." He growled, and stopped for just long enough to break off a large branch. Kicking the branch off. Fueled by his anger at Prussia's stupidity.

He sprinted through the forest, until he saw something off in the distance. That had to be them. Germany raised the stick over his head, and stepped up his pace, until he was close enough to get a good look at his target.

"Hey, Lutz."

Germany gasped, and dropped the stick, skidding to a halt. "Gilbert."

Prussia beamed at him, panting. He slumped heavily on his sword, which he was using as a cane. "Glücklich zu sehen, du bist sicher." His eyes glazed over, and Prussia could no longer hold himself up, against the sword.

Germany ran forward, throwing his arms out to catch him. "Gilbert? Dumm kopf, you don't need to be concerned with my well being." He balled the end of his shirt into the bloody wound in Prussia's side. Prussia's eyes fluttered weakly, gasping for breath. Germany shook him lightly, feeling his tears flow faster. "Gilbert, don't die! Bitte, Bruder."

"I'm alright." Prussia gasped. The pain in his voice evident. "I just need to rest." His hand found Germany's and gripped onto the blood soaked fingers. "Believe it, or not, this wound was caused by my own sword." He paused, trying to catch his breath again. "I thought it had fully mended." He laughed lightly. "Guess I was wrong." Prussia's eyes faded off again, trying to stay conscious, but failing.

"Gilbert!"

"Sorry, Lutz." He finished weakly, falling fully under. Knowing he was finally safe to do so.

"Gilbert?" Germany sobbed, trying to shake him again, but there was no waking him up this time. He drew in a shaky breath, drying his eyes as best he could. "Just hang in there." Germany slid Prussia's sword into his sheath, (Knowing how much his brother treasured his sword. How angry he'd be if he left it.) and adjusted his grip to hold him better. Germany got to his feet, lifting Prussia in his arms. "You'll be alright, just please, hold on."

Gilbert flew on ahead to lead him back to Italy and Romano, as well as keep watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh great... now there's a Poland. lol. I've actually been quite excited to get him here, even if he doesn't have that big of a role... yet. Apparently Prussia wants to speak german more than Germany, so (In honor of you getting some of it) i feel like i need to translate.
> 
> Mein Freunde- My friend  
> Bruder- Brother  
> Scheiße-shit  
> Ich schlage vor, musst du den Mund halten- I suggest, you keep your mouth shut  
> Glücklich zu sehen, du bist sicher- I'm glad to see that you're safe
> 
> Oh, and Mio Dio is Italian for My God. I don't know much of other languages, but I know some, and whatever I don't know, hey there's always the interwebs.
> 
> On a side note, I would also like to explain something that may have gone over some people's heads. (Again, I feel like I should explain because Germany mentioned it.) They are playing this out as humans, but the characters are still nations. Them getting hurt, or the difficulties they are having, are purely symbolic. At the beginning, America and Canada kept getting hurt or snagged, or something along those lines, because they both should be dead by now. The infestation started in their area, but because they're populations are so large they have still managed to survive. They're having problems, but the citizens are too stubborn to just die. The European nations are going faster because they're smaller. Once a nation dies, it simply means that their people are either all dead or walkers. If they're infected then they're just beyond help. They're still alive, but there's nothing they can really do. More so, the point behind amputating Iggy's arm is to represent quarantining. The infected have been blocked off, from the rest of the nation, to keep it from spreading. Whether it works or not is left to be seen. So... yea... try to keep that in mind.


	23. Chapter 23

England had been fading in and out of consciousness, all along the following day. At the moment he was resting. America continued to lay on the bed, next to him. There was a subtle glaze in his eyes, staring off without seeing anything. His fingers lightly traced through his hair, humming to himself.

Canada made his way over, a sad smile touching his lips. He recognized the song America was humming as a lullaby England used to sing to them, when they were little. To comfort them, when they were upset. Canada settled on the bed, his hand resting against America's neck. When he looked up at him, his fingers slid through his hair.

America sighed, turning his attention back to England. "He used to lay with us, just like this. When we were scared or sad... Do you remember?"

Canada's smile widened a touch, continuing to pet America's head. "I do."

America sniffed, drawing a deep breath. "I used to believe that nothing could bring England down. That he was the strongest nation in the world, and he could do anything. He could hold me, in his arms, and nothing could ever harm me." America's voice was very low and timid, his arms clutching tighter to England's arm. "That he was strong enough to protect me from any kind of danger."

"At one time... he was."

America curled in more, his head resting against England's shoulder. "I think I'd give anything to feel that way again."

Canada lay against America's arm, curling in next to him. "Given the situation, I can see how that could be appealing." Canada's nails traced along America's shoulder. "But that would mean giving up your own strength, in order to gain protection."

America took a few short moments to weigh these options. Finally, he sighed. "I remember... when I first decided to be independent. I was just sick of someone else living my life for me. I wanted to be out on my own. To make my own mistakes." His mind wandered off into the silent desire that England would still be there to help when he made these mistakes. His voice chimed back into a low sigh. "I guess I never thought about how hard making my own mistakes would be."

They were both silent, for a while, until finally, America smirked, letting out a small huff. "Growing up sucks." They both laughed lightly. "Yes. Yes, it does."

"You know, Arthur was not the only one to protect you." France commented, sliding onto the bed, on the other side of England.

Canada smirked up at him. "We haven't forgotten."

"Yea. We still love you, Frankie." America added, reaching a hand out to grab France's. "Just... Iggy's hurt. So, he gets top priority, right now."

France laughed lightly, turning his attention towards England. "This is true." His slipped his hand from America's grip, tracing his fingers through England's hair. "It is strange to see him like this." His eyes saddened, his voice sounding unfocused. "It makes everything suddenly seem very real."

Both twins heads lifted up to look at France, shooting each other an odd look. It hadn't yet occurred to them that France didn't have that much exposure to these things. He was always on the sidelines, providing support from a distance. The closest thing he had to a head-on encounter was when he was scared that the two of them were dead. I guess seeing them alive dulled that fear of losing someone dear to him. Neither him, nor England had lost anything, before this. They briefly wondered if Russia held the same mindset as France. Of course, he had seemed concerned when England had been bitten, and discovered a quick solution, but did he really care?

The three nations drifted off in quiet contemplation. America sighed, curling further into England. He was more happy, than he realized, to have him alive. Amputating his arm was genius, on Russia's part. If only he had thought of that sooner. Why hadn't he been able to think of that? It seemed such a simple solution.

"Alfred?"

Why was he so incompetent, where he couldn't even consider something as simple as amputation?

"Al? Are you ok?"

America was dragged back, by the sound of Canada's voice, and the feel of his hand brushing his hair aside. "Huh? Uh, yea, why?"

Canada frowned, a crease forming between his brow. He was lying to him again. "You just seemed as though you were angry about something."

"Well... of course I'm angry." America commented, brushing a hand against England's face. "Iggy lost his arm. That's annoying, in and of itself."

Canada had to bite back a growl. Why the hell did his brother have to be so stubborn?

America could feel the uneasy aura that told him Canada was annoyed with him. To be honest, Canada was the reason he stopped trying to sense the mood. He couldn't stand the feeling of hatred most nations felt for him, but it was impossible to cut it off with someone he was so close to.

"Alright." America finally wrenched himself from England's side, and slid from the bed. "I'm gonna see if Ivan needs any help." He kept his head down, trying to pretend he wasn't hurrying from the store.

"Al?" Canada whined, calling after him. When he didn't respond, Canada slumped, with an aggravated groan. "What am I gonna do with him?" Sure he knew he was worried about England, but America had become a lot more introverted than the situation called. Well, for him at least. Losing Hawaii and Alaska had to be hard, but it seemed as if something always cropped up every time he was getting his confidence back. Like some mysterious force was trying to keep his brother down with all these horribly timed circumstances.

"Matthieu."

Canada glanced back at France.

"Why don't you go see if Ivan needs help, too." He added with a small wink, his lips quirking into a grin. "I'll look after Arthur."

It took Canada a moment to register what he said, then he smiled. "Ok. Let us know if anything changes."

"But, of course."

Canada slid from the bed, and started after America.

France watched him go, a small smile sliding onto his lips. "You had better recover soon." His eyes turned onto him, saddened. "Those two still need you." France ran a hand through the short blond hairs, feeling tears start to well up in his eyes. "And they are not the only ones."

xXx

"Yo, Bragins- _kaay_." America chimed, sliding into the store where Russia was trying to secure the boat onto a trailer so they could attach it to the back of the truck. "Wuzzup, Bra?"

Russia cocked a brow at his strange inquiry. He knew America had a tendency to call anyone brother, or at least some variation on it, even if there was no real relation... but what the hell did underwear have to do with anything? "Nothing, I suppose." Russia finally looked up at his new partner, as he sauntered over, next to him. America bent over to see what he was up to, and a small smile quirked Russia's lips. "You seem to be feeling better, at least."

A crease twitched between America's brows. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Russia looked over him, reading his expression. It was there, but he couldn't quite pin point what "it" really translated into. Course it was strange he could see anything at all. America very rarely let his shield down. Even then, it'd only be a temporary glimpse. Then he quickly brought back his guard to block himself off from letting anyone else see he was distressed or upset. However, it seemed as though those shields weren't put back right, and could fall again, at any second. This uncertainty was almost enough to actually make Russia worried.

"Dude... why are you staring at me, like that?"

Not wanting his current comrade to get suspicious, Russia slid on one of his award winning smiles. "Just lamenting you never becoming one with me." He sighed, his eyes flicking off in an almost dreamy manner. "So much wasted time."

America rolled his eyes, but Russia was somehow relieved to see him smile. "Don't start getting mushy on me, Ruski." He smacked him on the back, and stood up straighter, glancing around the area.

"Actually, I am glad you are here." Russia stood, dusting himself off.

America couldn't help but laugh at that one as well... probably finding it a bit funnier than he should have. "Never thought I'd hear ya say that."

Russia shrugged. "You're good support."

America stopped laughing, his lips quirking in a sarcastically annoyed manner. The look on his face was truly priceless. America tried his hardest not to grin, waving a scornful finger at him. "That's not funny." His point broke with the crack of amusement, in his voice.

Russia clapped a hand on his shoulder, leaning into his ear. "Yes it is. Come." He patted his shoulder, pushing him down a bit too far. "I need your help." He stepped away, and America perked up, cocking his head, a hand messaging his sore shoulder. "With what?"

"Transport. So I can attach boat to truck." Russia elaborated, rustling the metal straps for the trailer.

"Yea, sure." America clapped his hands, rubbing them together.

"There you are?" Canada trotted towards them, smiling brightly. "I wasn't sure where you'd run off to. Hi, Ivan."

Russia smiled back, his expression softer towards Canada. "Oh good. Matvey is here. I no longer need you." He waved a dismissive hand to America, making his way over.

"Hey." America whined.

"I kid, I kid. Come." Russia laughed, throwing his arms around both of them. "I use both your help."

"What do you need help with?" Canada asked, but his attention was drawn towards America. He needed to talk to him, and as much as he hated the idea, it seemed he might have to corner America and force him to tell what was going on. Course, that still wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded. For the moment, at least, his brother seemed relaxed.

Russia squeezed Canada tighter, pressing their heads together. "I use your help with the setting up. First, we need to get boat to truck." He smirked at America. "Think Superman can handle it?" The hand around his shoulder moved to America's back and shoved him forward.

America eyed the boat, then back to Russia. There was a flash of uncertainty, but he still smirked, and stripped off his coat, throwing it on the ground. "No prob." He cracked his knuckles, flexing a bit as he made his way over to retrieve the boat.

"Um, Al." Canada stepped closer, having caught the brief hesitation. "I don't think you should be exerting yourself, like that."

"Don't worry, Mattie." America chimed, flashing one of his brightest smiles. "Compared to some of the other stuff I've carried, this thing should be a synch." He winked, snapping his fingers to emphasize his point.

"But."

"It's fine. I'm the strongest nation in the world, remember." He grasped hold of the hitch, in the front, and positioned the chains to get a better grip, still grinning at his brother. "Besides, what kind of hero would I be, if I couldn't even pull a boat?"

There it was again. That slight slip, that seemed to fracture his mask when he smiled. "Al?"

"He is right. No need to worry." Russia threw his arm around Canada's shoulder again. "Come, Matvey. You help me collect tools."

"It's not far from here, Mattie. It shouldn't even take that long." America started to drag the boat from the store as Russia pulled Canada in the opposite direction.

It's a good thing the boat had wheels or else this might have been more difficult. He had to take a moment to remember which way to go, as well as a few circumstances of back-tracking. Although, even with that added detour, there was no reasoning for why he was breathing so hard. America had always been strong. He needed to be to live this long. On top of the strength there was also speed and stamina. Sure he would get worn out. Everyone does, but not this soon. This thing wasn't any heavier than England's car. In fact it was possibly lighter. He should be able to lug this thing around all day, barely breaking a sweat. Why the hell was he so tired, so soon? At one point America had to stop to catch his breath. He slumped against the boat, feeling his throat run dry from his breathing. A hand came up to brush his hairs, his eyes drooping. He didn't really get much sleep last night. What with everything that was going on recently, he hadn't slept well for a while, but the scare with England just made his anxiety spark to new levels.

"Have you not arrived yet?"

America turned to see Russia heading towards him with what appeared to be a rather large wrench. "What's taking so long?"

America smirked, getting to his feet again. "I got lost."

Russia scoffed. "Of course you did."

"Where's Mattie?"

"Gathering the rest of the tools. He should be joining shortly." His hand wrapped around part of the trailer, and started assisting America in pulling. Without him even having to ask why, Russia decided to respond with his desire to hurry and get out as soon as possible.

They arrived soon enough to the garage and hefted the boat into position. Canada showed up as they were settling the pieces together. "Ahh, good timing." Russia beamed. "Come on over." He settled onto the ground, leaning under the hitch, and waved Canada over. "You can just hand me what I need."

"Huh?" Canada glanced up, from his thoughts. "Yea, ok." He rushed over, sneaking a glance to his twin. America sighed, brushing his hair from his face, and grinned when he noted Canada's gaze. Canada hummed thoughtfully, then decided to drop it so he could assist Russia.

America slumped back onto a pile of boxes, dropping his head in his hand. "If ya need anything else, let me know."

"I think we got it." Russia responded, trying to remain focused on screwing the hinges into place. "Just sit there until you are needed."

America sighed, closing his eyes. "Yea, sure. Whatever."

Canada was only half paying attention to his assisting, drifting off into his own thoughts, again. He wasn't really sure what his mind was focusing on. There were so many things happening that he really couldn't figure out the biggest issues anymore. Although, it was a good thing that announcement had come when it did. It was good to have their group rest up and recover, for a while, but even this was getting to be a problem. Apparently there had been some kind of power surge, so the mall was now without any electricity, and this included heat. It was only fortunate that the weather was starting to warm up, but the nights were horribly cold. On top of that, what little food they had was almost out, and it wouldn't be long before certain items would spoil. None of them had much to eat over the past week or so, and Canada was starting to feel the effects of it. With the stress, and anxiety that was flooded in their group, and surroundings, he was starting to feel the drain. Tired, and perhaps a little light headed.

Russia called for a tool, and somehow, Canada found he was smiling as he handed it over. It seemed strange to find a silver lining in such a dark cloud, but he couldn't help think how nice it was to have such beautiful coexistence between the nations. It was amusing to think that something so horrific could finally open the path towards world peace.

There was an odd thunk, from the bottom of the boat. Russia must have shifted something out of place, and it unhinged the boat from where it were balanced on the trailer.

Immediately, America leaped to his feet, and ran over to catch the side of the boat, before it fell and crushed Russia's legs. It was difficult enough to get a good grip along the slick side, but he felt he at least had that much. What America lacked was the will to hold onto it. His arms shook against the weight, and his head started to throb from the strain of trying to endure it. This was ridiculous. He'd never before been this weak. Even when tired. "Fuck." He growled. "Ivan... move."

"Hold on, just a bit more."

"Ivan." The boat tried to slip, and America situated one of his legs to try and hold it better.

"I can't stop now. I almost got it together, then I can fix it back."

"Seriously, dude." Even his voice was shaking now, the pulse in his head deafening his ears. "I don't think I can hold this much longer. Get out, before I drop it."

"Almost done."

There was a loud clank, as Canada dropped the tools still in his hands, and ran around the boat, to assist his brother. It had now shifted to an awkward angle, and not even the combined leverage could get a good enough angle to push it back up. "Ivan... hurry."

There was evident sounds of Russia hurrying his work. "Done." He finally said, and slid out to help Canada push it back into place. However, America seemed to be using the boat to hold himself up, just as much as it was using him, and stumbled backwards once it was secured back into place. The only thing that kept him from hitting the ground was the stacks of boxes that broke his fall. Many of which threatened to fall over top of him.

"Alfred!" Canada cried, running over, and shoved the precarious boxes in the opposite direction. He dropped next to his brother, trying to urge his glassy eyes to focus. "Alfred? Alfred, look at me!" His eyes teared, watching as America's eyes closed tight, obviously trying to regain their focus for when they opened again. "Alfred? Are you still with me?"

"Mmn-Mattie." He groaned, pressing his palm into his pounding head, suddenly realizing he was breathless. Again, frustrated at his exhaustion. "Dammit."

"You ok?"

America's head started swimming, and he found it more difficult to keep his eyes open. He thought he had said he was fine, but apparently, that's not what Canada heard. Evident by him starting to cry harder, as he called his name.

"JONES!" Even Russia was concerned. That was nice of him. Too bad his attempts to rouse him were a lot rougher than Canada. That was kind of annoying. Russia had said something else, but it was difficult to tell what it was. There was some kind of whistle going off in his ears. The pitch continued to get higher before his vision finally faded to black.

xXx

"Mon Dieu! What happened!?" France exclaimed, not sure if his shock was seeing America unconscious, or the sight of Russia carrying him in his arms. "Over-exertion. Mal-nutrition. Exhaustion. Stress. Hell, it may even be psychosomatic." Russia rolled off, as Canada threw back the covers of one of the beds, to allow him to lay America down. America was still having trouble catching his breath, his entire body shivering. "He seems to be having a fever."

"Fetch a cold compress." They all turned in slightly more shock to see England was propped up on his elbow. He was still exhausted, but that didn't seem to hinder his concerned gaze. "Maybe someone should head to the pharmacy to try and find something to bring his fever down."

"Right." France was the first to get his head together. "Come on, Matthieu." He grasped Canada's arm and dragged him from the store. Canada cast a glance back to his twin, as he was dragged from the store. Great, what now?

"I suppose is good thing we have no hot water." Russia tried to quip, as he stood and made his way from the area.

America moaned loudly, in his sleep, almost like he were having a nightmare. Slowly, England slid from his bed, and fell heavily next to America. It was difficult to adjust to trying to distribute his weight. A hand coming up to trace through the sweat soaked strands. He laughed shortly, an odd smile crossing his lips. "You brat."

The moaning faded into faint whimpers against his touch. England was trying his best not to cry, but it didn't stop his eyes from burning. "You just couldn't stand to let me have all the attention."

xXx

America had seemed to settle down into a peaceful sleep. They couldn't get him to wake up long enough to take any kind of medication, but the fever finally seemed to break on its own. Canada sat next to him, running a cold rag across his face. It was a bit too fast for this fever to be going down, like this. Perhaps it was just in his head. Canada sighed, soaking the cloth in the small bowl of water, on the end table. "Oh, Al." He wrung out the rag, and slid it back onto his forehead, tracing a hand down the side of his face. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? Why do you have to keep everything pent up inside of you?" He whined, softly, running his free hand through his own hair. "Why can't you just tell me what's going on in that thick head of yours?"

America made a strange sound, that he must have thought was a laugh. "I'm sorry my thick headedness bothers you so much." His voice was pale and weak, making Canada frightened again. "But you can be just as bad as I am."

Canada frowned, unsure. "What?"

America opened his eyes staring lazily up at him, and tried to smile. "And people say I don't listen."

"What do you mean?" Canada asked desperately. "I don't understand. What are you saying?"

America's eyes closed again, tears squeezing from them. He really didn't want to hear Canada say that. He was the only one who ever heard the screams in his silence, and the truth behind his cryptic words. "I already told you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This was actually a bit difficult to write, mainly from the mindset. What with what's going on with Prussia, and me being worried about him, and you all hating my guts for not telling you what's going on, and going back to these boringly safe people that you really don't care all that much about. Plus, there's the whole thing goin on with America, and me trying ever so hard to not make him look like a little bitch, against all the bullshit that's happened to Romano, and it's a right mess. Also, I seemed to keep having a slur of wishing to input random Author's notes into the story. (Like wanting to mention how I needed to stop for a maniacal laugh when Canada talked about an invisible force that kept bringing down his brother's confidence)
> 
> Oh well. Have fun stewing until I finally tell you about Prussia.


	24. Chapter 24

"Gilbert." Italy gasped, as Germany rejoined them, carrying Prussia. He ran over, still clamped tightly to Romano. "Ludwig, is he ok?"

"Ja. I don't know... maybe. I need to get him inside." Germany completely ignored them both, as he made a b-line towards the camper. Italy and Romano ran ahead to open the door.

"O viešpatie." Lithuania gasped, rising as they entered. "What happened to him?"

"Pull out the couch." Germany ordered.

Lithuania immediately moved to pull the couch out, from the wall, and stepped aside to allow Germany to lay Prussia on it. Germany set to work, removing Prussia's sword, (sheath and all) and started on his shirt. Prussia cringed as he peeled the fabric from his wound, to see most of his stomach was covered in blood. The sight of this sent his stomach churning. Though it was difficult to tell if it was the wound or the fear the sight of it brought on.

"Brother. You're alive!" Sicily sprang from the back, throwing her arms around Romano, sobbing. "I was so worried about you."

Romano paid the small girl no mind, trying to keep his eyes on Prussia's condition. It was getting difficult with Sicily clinging to him like this. He pried her arms off of him, although he also managed to dislodge Italy from him as well. Italy felt his anxiety spark with this disconnection. Sicily shuddered too, her expression falling as she watched Romano feverishly trying to check on Prussia. "Brother?"

Italy tried to calm his breathing, kneeling in front of Sicily. "Romano's a bit on edge right now. Why don't you stay with Seychelles until we get everything sorted out."

"B-but I-" She sniffed, her gaze falling to the couch. "Is Mr. Prussia ok?"

"He'll be fine." Italy forced a smile, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Just sit back, and let us handle this."

Seychelles made her way over, wringing her hands, uncertainly. Italy was relieved to see her, and deposited Sicily to her. It was a bit selfish, yes, but he didn't want to worry about Sicily, when he finally had Romano back? Especially since he was potentially crowding Germany. Italy slid his arms around Romano's arm, and held him tight, drawing him back a bit. His eyes flicked between Prussia and Germany, feeling nervous. His joy at seeing Romano alive competing with the fear of losing Prussia. Even Romano seemed nervous. Which was strange. He didn't think he cared about either of them. His attention diverted towards his German friend at the sound of a soft sniff. His heart skipped a beat. Was Germany really crying. "Ludwig?" Italy reached out a hand towards him.

"Find me something to clean his wound." Germany cut off, before he could say or do anything else.

The three scrambled about to gather things. Italy was still a bit hesitant, but Romano was insistent on assisting. They had acquired a first aid kit, and Lithuania set to boiling a pot of water.

Germany cleaned the wound off, as best he could, able to do a better job once he had hot water. There were signs that the wound had been stitched up once before. He would like to say that the thread had broken, but apparently Prussia's skin gave out first. A touchy wound, but nothing he couldn't deal with. If nothing else, he had to close it back before it could stop bleeding. However, he needed to cut away the torn loose skin, before any first aid could be applied.

Romano felt sick at the sight of it. He remembered how they thought Spain's wound was potentially nothing, but then it killed him. Romano had no eye for the severity of an injury. Sure Prussia's wound didn't look as long as Spain's but it was definitely wider, and appeared to be producing the same amount of blood. Plus, they had no way of knowing how deep it was.

Italy looked up to see Romano's face tinged a pale green. "Romano?" He chimed softly, sliding his arms further around his shoulders. "Romano, are you ok?"

Romano drew a breath, suddenly realizing that he was crying. "Is he going to be ok?" He choked as he asked. Both Italy and Germany were startled at the deep concern in Romano's voice.

"He better be." Germany responded, without looking up from his work. He laughed shortly, applying a series of butterfly bandages along the wound. "Or I will kill him." Germany found his voice gave out, from saying this, his eyes starting to fill to a point where he had to let them fall to see. Given the circumstances, his having to kill his brother for dying might be a legitimate occurrence.

"Is there anything else I can do to help?" Lithuania asked, standing behind Germany.

Germany shook his head. "I'll take care of him." He thought for a bit, then continued. "Look after Elizaveta for me. Let me know if there's any change in Roderich."

"Yes, sir." Lithuania nodded his head, and headed for the back.

Germany's eyes flicked briefly to watch him go, then sighed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Italy was torn between wanting to comfort Germany, and not wanting to leave Romano's side. Sure it was silly, but he was terrified that he'd lose his brother again if he didn't keep hold of him. Either way, he knew Germany was strong. Romano was the one who had gone numb in his grip. His body was cold, and he seemed rooted to his spot, watching Germany work with an odd intensity. "Romano?" Italy brought a hand up to urge Romano to look at him. "Maybe you should sit down."

Romano's mouth felt dry. He found it difficult to catch his breath, eyes flickering between Italy and Prussia. "But he-"

"Come on." Italy started to guide him to the benches surrounding the small table. "Ludwig will look after Gilbert." He sat him down, tracing a hand over Romano's face. "Are you ok?"

Romano was still shaking, eyes drifting back to Prussia. "I don't understand." His head fell, eyes growing unfocused as he stared at their combined hands. "Why is this happening?"

Italy brushed away his brother's tears. "That's what we're hoping to find out."

"No... I." He sighed, shaking his head. "Why do they...? Why?" Romano started sobbing harder, and Italy drew him into his arms. He shushed him lightly, pulling his head onto his shoulder. "It's going to be ok now. We're safe here."

Romano didn't seem to take comfort in this, he only wrapped his arms around Italy and clung tighter. "No."

Italy just held him, rocking the sobbing nation, in his arms. His fingers traced lightly through his hair, cooing softly. Even though he knew Romano was safe, that fear still didn't go away. The pain in his chest still told him something was wrong. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Romano sniffed, and shook his head, continuing to cry.

Then what could it be? It wasn't just fear, but legitimate pain. Romano was hurting, and he couldn't figure out why. He couldn't still be worried about him, then who? That's when Italy remembered something. His dream. Grandpa Rome, and his warning. The meanings attached to those graves, and he knew. Italy started crying at the thought, his face pressing into the top of Romano's hair. He kissed his head, whispering softly. "I'm sorry about Antonio."

That was it. Romano curled himself fully into Italy, his voice cracking in a near screech amongst his sobs. It took him a while to finally calm down. "That bastard." He croaked, still unable to catch his breath. "Why did he have to leave me?" Italy just held him tighter, and Romano's eyes drifted back to Prussia. "Why is everyone so stupid?"

xXx

It was well into the next night by the time Prussia started to regain consciousness. In fact there were traces of the sun peeking over the horizon. Germany was watching over his brother, in case something were to happen. He needed to make sure he was awake and alert, just in case Prussia dared to try and die on him, while he was recovering. He fought so hard, for so long, but exhaustion finally overtook him.

Prussia's eyes swam around the small area until they could finally focus to take in his surroundings. Italy and Romano were curled up, along with the two young girls, sleeping in a small pile on the bench. Soon, he found his little brother sitting in what seemed to be a fold out chair he had set up in the aisle at the foot of the couch. His arms were folded across his chest, head slumped forward. Poor thing. Prussia hands briefly checked over himself to see he was stripped of everything but his pants, and thick bandages wrapped around his torso. His head craned up to try and better assess the situation. They seemed to be under cover. Too bad he couldn't see out of the window.

Germany moaned softly, drawing his attention. His eyes almost seemed like they wanted to open, then he shivered, rubbing his hands along his arms. Prussia's eyes fell slightly. He discovered his long jacket thrown across the back of the couch, and his hand came up to grab it. It was greatly unnerving to realize how much he was shaking. His fingers didn't seem to want to work, and he had to focus way too hard to grip onto the fabric of his jacket. Once he finally had a hold of the coat, Prussia then began the rather difficult task of trying to sit up. His breath caught in his throat in an attempt to hold back any noise so that he wouldn't wake up Germany. Unfortunately when he had finally made it to a sitting position he had to release the breath, which made the pain in his stomach sharper. A hand drew to the sting, his eyes closing. His head throbbed slightly, which might have meant he made a noise, but didn't hear it.

"Bruder?" He heard Germany's voice, and looked up in time to see him sit up, and lean forward. A hand dropped onto Prussia's shoulder, concern overtaking his brother's features. "You shouldn't be moving."

Prussia grinned up at him, trying to ignore how hot his face was, from the pain. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

"Nein. Nein, es ist nicht." Germany stood, to get a better angle to push Prussia to lay down again. "I patched you up, Bruder. I've seen how serious this wound is."

Prussia laid down like he was urged against his will to do. "But if you mended, I'm sure it'll hold. No problem, ja?"

"Nein. I don't have much here." Germany didn't take his hand from his brother's shoulders, to make sure he wouldn't move. "You can't be too active, or else it will reopen again."

"I won't be, but I can't just sit around. I would go insane. You know me better than this." Prussia tried to manipulate his grin into a puppy dog expression, but it never worked, especially not against Germany.

Germany stared down at him, still leaning over him. His eyes were very strange. An expression he hadn't seen in so long. He was afraid, and Prussia felt guilty for it. "I do know you." He finally responded wearily. "That's why I'm worried. I know how much of an idiot you can be." It was clear how hard he was trying to keep his voice steady. If he hadn't been with Prussia, the fight might have gone unnoticed.

Gently, Prussia pried off Germany's fingers, and moved to sit back up. Germany pulled back slightly, but his brother's hand moved up to grip tightly to his arm. "I'll be careful." He tried to push away the guilt of inducing this panic, to make sure he seemed genuine. "I promise. I just ask that you don't hinder me."

Germany stared back at him, trying to decipher any ulterior motive. Finally he sighed out a low groan, and sat up, shaking his head. His eyes fell towards the ground, cracking his knuckles. "If that wound reopens, I'm tying you to the bed. Verstehst du?"

Prussia grinned widely, clapping a hand on his baby brother's shoulder. "Ja. Ich verstehe."

Italy felt his own tears run down his cheeks, but didn't have the hands to brush them away. Sicily and Seychelles had joined them, but his only attention was Romano. Arms wrapped tightly around him, as his brother's head rested against his chest. Romano was sniffing softly, but had calmed down greatly, having cried himself to sleep. Even so, Italy still couldn't shake this uneasy feeling. Yay, Romano was safe, and he had no intention of letting him go anytime soon. He figured it was just concern for Prussia, or any of the others, but something else was wrong. It wasn't just fear, but a bit of uncertainty. Like his joy was causing him to forget about something important.

What could it be? "So, you're ok, Gilbert?" He asked quietly, hoping to be able to distract himself enough to figure it out.

Prussia sat up straighter and both he and Germany glanced up towards him. A wide grin slid onto Prussia's face. "I'll live." His smile faded a touch, cocking a head towards Romano. "How's brother dearest?"

Italy turned his gaze back to his brother, brushing a hand through his hair. "A bit shaken, but I think he'll be ok?"

"Good to hear." Prussia's voice strained a tad as he spoke, considering he was trying to sit up more, but that grin never left his face. "Hate to think I made myself bleed again, and he got himself hurt."

Germany gave him a vague look of warning, but Prussia just winked at him. "So where did these two come from?" He asked, gesturing towards the sleeping girls.

"We ran into them little over a week ago." Germany responded, standing up to fold the chair up and basically distract himself from the memory, of that day. Italy seemed to be tending to Romano again as if to soothe his own memories away from him. "They've mostly been hiding in the back, since we've picked them up. Along with Natalia, and..." Germany faded off, and Prussia's concern sparked up again. Slowly, as if in thought, or confusion, Germany ran a tongue along his bottom lip, staring off through the window. His brows started to knit together.

"Lutz?" Prussia asked, leaning forward. "Stimmt etwas nicht?"

At his voice, Germany turned towards him. The look of contemplation still on his face. It took him a few seconds longer, before he finally came to a decision. His eyes turned on his brother, licking his lips. "Gilbert, are you well enough to deal with something?"

"Deal with something? Is there a problem?"

Germany's eyes narrowed, saddened. "You could say that. A complication, that's been giving me problems. I don't see fit to move, until it is resolved, but I feel like you might be the one to assist with this. Do you think you're up for it, Bruder?"

Prussia scratched his head, brows furrowing. "I guess. What do you need me to do?"

xXx

Prussia drew back the curtains, stepping cautiously into the back room. The entire area felt cold, and a sick scent quickly found his nostrils. A scent he was very familiar with, but still couldn't really describe. He could only relate this scent to war, and hated that he wasn't turned off by it. His eyes landed immediately on the sight to the far back, feeling an odd thrill mix with his fear. Almost as if this image was a faint blur remembered from a dream. Hungary looked pale, and very thin. Her arms coated to the elbow with blood. A good chunk of hair was burned off, as well as a large portion of her dress. There was exposed skin, trailing from her shoulder, on down to her hip, presenting a nice shiny burn.

His heart beat at a funny rate, his cheeks feeling warm... this was before he even saw Austria. Upon sight of him, he pieced together more of the origin of the smell. His old rival had surely been gone for a while now. His skin taking on a pasty blueish color, and his eyes had faded to a milky white as they stared lifelessly up at his wife. Although, to be honest, both figures were so pale and unmoving that it was difficult to tell which one was alive or not.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Prussia?"

Prussia jumped, eyes twitching towards a nearby bed to see Lithuania was watching him. His eyes were sunken and red, body entwined in a thick blanket. Even he reflected death. Prussia nodded, his lips trying to move long before he was able to tell him that he could leave.

Lithuania seemed as if he were trying to smile, then nodded his head, as he ducked out.

Prussia glanced over to see Belarus curled up asleep, on the third bed. He vaguely wondered how she could deal so peacefully with this feeling. Course the thought did cross his mind of how creepy this girl was anyway, and diverted his attention fully to the task at hand.

Carefully, his feet inched closer, until he had made his way over to kneel next to Hungary. Both hands came up to grip her shoulders. "Lizzy?" At least she had made some kind of reaction. A soft intake of breath, and her eyes gently closing. If it hadn't been for that, Prussia might have assumed she had died, of a broken heart, as she knelt by his side. Prussia was amazed to find his voice as steady as it was. Even if they didn't really get along that well, it was still difficult to think that Austria was actually gone. He had survived so much to just be killed by some stupid virus. Course, he could say that about plenty others. He didn't really know what other nations were still alive or not, but it was a safe bet to say there were many casualties, by this point. The very concept of a nation dying was hard enough to get his mind around, let alone his dear Austria... Hungary's Austria. Prussia stared at the dead-pan look on her face, feeling his own heart breaking. She really was the only reason he cared. This kind of pain did not suit someone as strong as her.

A hand brushed against her cheek, lost for words. He thought he knew what he was going to say to her, but that was before he was presented with this sight. The stiff cold in the area. Frankly, he was amazed he even got this close. Germany had mentioned something about some kind of barrier Hungary had been putting up against anyone who had dared come near her. A feeling. Warrior's spirit, who really knew, but anyone else had this impending sense that Hungary would murder anyone who interrupted her alone time with Austria... but Prussia didn't get that. There was a thicker presence, in the room, that seemed to dissolve a bit once he approached her, but nothing more. Could it be Hungary wanted him here?

Many times, Prussia opened his mouth to try and speak, but his voice alluded him. All he could possibly do was manage to say her name again. He knew Germany, and probably Italy was watching him, and that he must have looked very strange, but he didn't care. He had to find his voice. He had to talk to her. "Lizzy... are-... are you... ok?" What a dumb question. Of course she wasn't ok. She was broken. Hell, it was a miracle she hadn't gone on a murderous rampage, what with the loss of her beloved Austria. He was the only man she had truly allowed herself to love, and Prussia knew there was no way she could keep this bottled in so easily, with him de-... that was it. Germany said that Austria had bled out from a wound, but he was also bitten. He was infected, and could wake up at any second. Was she waiting for that? Could she possibly want him to turn into one of those monsters? If she was... what was her plan then? Would she shoot him? Would she keep him as some kind of undead pet?

A rock landed deep in Prussia's stomach. Would she let him bite her? Was she so torn up that she would possibly want Austria to wake up, just so he could kill her?

"Liz." Prussia's breathing kicked up, seemingly unblocking whatever was holding back his voice. "Can you hear me? I need you to listen to me."

Hungary's eyes slowly blinked, as if in some kind of acknowledgment.

"I know you've heard this from Lutz already, but we need to do something with Rodrich, before things get too difficult." He moved closer, brushing a hand through her hair, the burnt strands flaking off against his touch. The other slipping over both of their joined hands. His voice chimed low in her ear, afraid it might crack, as his eyes started burning. "I don't know what your waiting for, but please, Elizaveta." He stopped to breath, praying he wouldn't start crying. "I can't lose you too, and I'll do anything to keep you from getting hurt." Prussia's eyes drifted back towards Austria, tightening the grip on his fingers. "Even if I have to shoot him myself." He turned his gaze back to Hungary, trying to gauge her reaction to this statement, but there was no change in her demeanor. "It's safer to do it now... rather than wait." Prussia looked back to Austria. "You don't even have to do anything." After a bit longer, he inched closer to the body, trying to hold down any sick or uneasy feelings. "I can take care of him for you, if you would just-"

*click*

Prussia's hand stopped, his brain growing fuzzy with the realization of a gun barrel pressed against his temple. Hungary pushed him away with the gun, not even bothering to take her eyes from Austria... or put up the barrier again. Prussia stared at her wide eyed. It was difficult to truly read her intent, but it was clear she didn't want him to leave. As long as he didn't touch her Austria. Slowly, Prussia rocked back until he had fallen into sitting against the other bed.

Hungary huffed a breath, laying the gun down against the floor, still staring down at her deceased husband. Prussia watched her eyes fall back into a soft haze, feeling his own haze slide over him. He sighed, slowly taking in her full appearance again. After a long while of awkward silence, Prussia stood and left. Any watchers must have backed off.

Germany stood, making his way over. "Well? What do you think?" Prussia didn't say anything, making his way directly to the med kit, and plopped it onto the table, fishing through the content. Germany took to note the strained expression on his brother's face, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Gilbert?" Prussia closed his eyes slowly, breathing deep. "Are you ok?"

Prussia stopped, briefly, clenching and unclenching his fingers. He needed his hands to stop shaking if he was going to deal with this.

"What do you think we should do about her?"

"I think we should let things play out." Prussia finally found what he was looking for, and headed towards the back.

"What?"

"Lizzy has a reason for doing this." Prussia stated plainly, plucking up his coat, and turned to face his brother. Out of the corner of his eye he saw five other forms perking or gathering around. "I don't know what it is, or even if it's a logical reason, but it is her reason." His gaze fell sadder, though still adamant. "Don't worry, Lutz. I'll protect her." He spun and swept back through the curtain, just in time to miss the small smile that flitted across Hungary's face.

Prussia knelt next to Hungary again, flinching a bit at the wound in his side. Once the pain settle down, he traced a hand through her hair. "Lizzy, I'm not going to do anything, I don't have to. Just let me do what I need to. Verstehst du?"

Hungary showed no indication that she had heard, which he took to mean as a confirmation. Very cautiously, Prussia slid closer, a bit nervous for what he was about to do. Gently, he started to peel back the folds of her dress to expose the burns, and started applying the burn ointment he dug out of the kit. Hungary hissed a bit at the sting, but made no other sign of acknowledgment. Prussia did his best to ignore how close his hands had to be to certain areas. He needed to tend to Hungary's wounds. The most he got out of her were slight moans. As extensive as these burns were, it was a miracle she could even stand to sit still long enough. Perhaps some of the nerves had been destroyed so she couldn't feel it. A good chunk of the skin was black and flaking, just like her hair. It made things far more awkward when he had to actually pull her dress down, along with what remained of her bra, and wrapped her torso.

Prussia's touch lingered a bit, kind of hoping for a frying pan across his face, but she didn't respond to anything. Finally he sighed, finishing up, and wrapped her upper arm. He touched up the cuts along her face and arms as well, and threw his long coat over her shoulders. He even left again to retrieve something to clean the lingering blood from Austria and her arms. Prussia half expected Hungary to object to him pulling their hands apart, but apparently she seemed resigned to let him do whatever he had to. Once finished, for now, he sat back, just staring at her. A hand came up, chipping a bit more of her hair. Maybe he'd get Italy to do something about it later. It was really a shame to lose so much of this beautiful hair. Prussia inched closer, leaning against the bed Austria was laying on, sliding his hand over the hand secured back onto Austria's.

xXx

The day came and went, with Germany and Prussia trying to force feed Hungary. She still wasn't budging. It got to a point where Prussia was hoping for Austria to hurry and wake up, so they could get whatever Hungary wanted to do over with.

Fortunately, his wish was granted, although it took till about mid-afternoon the following day. Both Prussia and Hungary perked up at the sounds of a low moaning. Austria's chest gently rose, eyes closing, his head turning until his neck cracked. Austria's eyes opened again, lifting his head towards Hungary.

"Roderich." She gasped, sitting higher on her knees. Prussia looked to her, shocked at how weak her voice was. He backed up as she leaned over Austria, brushing a hand through his hair. Hungary's face leaned dangerously close to his, and Prussia's hand closed around the gun Germany lent him. Please let Hungary know what she was doing.

"Roderich, my love." Hungary moved to sit on the bed, Prussia's coat sliding off her injured shoulder. Austria's eyes widened at how close she was, mouth opening with a strained intake of breath. "Please forgive me. You did not deserve this fate." She traced a hand down his face, the other still laced through his fingers. "All I ever wanted was to protect you. To keep you from harm, and I couldn't even accomplish this." Austria's free hand came up around her neck, pulling sharply at her hair.

Prussia cocked the gun, his chest heaving with anxiety. "Elizaveta."

"I know we've had our problems, but you must know how much I love you." There were sparks twinkling in her eyes, voice dropping to a whisper. "I just wish there was some way to bring you back. To be with you again."

"Lizzy." It was then that Prussia realized he had started crying, from the strain in his own voice. "Lizzy, don't say that-"

Hungary raised a hand up to stop his approach, soon moving both hands up to Austria's face. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his forehead, as Austria's chin tilted up. His teeth dangerously close to her throat. A purple tongue extended to taste her. Prussia was growing more nervous, stepping closer to prepare to drag her away from him.

"Forgive me, Roderich." Her hand fished for her own gun, pressing the barrel against his head. A loud bang silenced the air, and Austria fell limp against the bed, Hungary's head dropping over him. "Good bye, my love."

Prussia wasn't quite sure what to make of this development. He stepped closer, pulling his coat back around her shoulders. Carefully, he settled onto the bed, a hand rubbing against her back.

"Gilbert." Hungary gasped, finally looking up at him, an actual emotion on her face. It wasn't one he liked to see, but at least she was responding.

Prussia forced his own tears back, and brushed her's away. "He's better off."

She shook her head and sobbed, eyes falling to her hands, which still wrung around the folds of Austria's shirt. "He deserved better. I should have been able to-"

"Don't start." She had started to lose her voice into gasps, but Prussia made sure to cut her off, drawing her tightly into his arms. "Don't do that to yourself. It's not fair to think like that."

She wanted to fight him, but found she didn't have the strength. Instead, she settled into his arms, unable to even cry anymore. Prussia held onto Hungary, trying to ignore how unnerving it was to feel her so fragile in his arms.

xXx

Germany had bolted to the back of the camper, at the sound of the gunshot. He flung back the curtain, but the pieces fit together before he even had to ask. Whatever was happening with Hungary and Austria was resolved, and she was finally breaking down. It was a bit strange to see Hungary like this, but he supposed it was understandable. What was even more shocking was the uncharacteristic comfort from his brother. He knew he had it in him, but Germany had grown so used to the loud overbearing side of Prussia that he forgot had cool he could be under pressure. How much support he could offer anyone in need, even if it was just emotional. A waning smile touched his lips, and he decided to leave the two of them to sort out their affairs.

xXx

"It's fine. I have him." Hungary stated, carrying her swaddled husband towards the grave Germany and Lithuania had dug for him.

"You're hurt, Lizzy." Prussia began, as she started lowering him in, and was having obvious problems. "Just let me-"

"I said, I have him." Hungary snapped, projecting a short spurt of that shield again, this time actually directed towards Prussia. He backed up a step, but still grabbed Austria's feet to assist, then helped Hungary out of the hole. Prussia made to put an arm around her, but her body position told him not to. There was so many emotions swirling around her, that her delicate frame was putting off mixed signals. On the one hand, her posture represented something small and frail, but the energy, and expression in her eyes reflected something deeper. Perhaps a bit unstable.

Germany, Italy, Romano, Lithuania, Prussia, Hungary, Sicily, Seychelles... all fell into a moment of silence for their fallen, even if they all didn't really know them too well. Soon, the group dispersed and prepared to move out. However, Italy's mind wandered off into thought until Romano found he had stopped in his tracks. He stared at the ground, an odd expression in his eyes. "Veneziano?" Romano started, squeezing his hand.

Italy looked up at him, a bit confused.

"Is something wrong?"

Italy bit his lip, rolling the idea in his head. "I've just been trying to make sense of something."

"Sense of what?"

It took him a bit to figure out how to explain himself, then slipped his other hand into Romano's squeezing them gently. "About a week ago." He began softly, not really wanting to say it aloud. "Before we lost Austria. I had a dream... about Grandpa Rome."

Romano's eyes widened, his brow's furrowing in confusion.

Italy finally lifted his gaze to meet his brother's. "He was digging holes. I think he was trying to warn me of something." His head fell again. "Too bad I realized it too late."

Romano stepped closer, moving his hands up around Italy's neck. "What was he trying to warn you of?"

Italy's gaze went glassy, as if re-visualizing the dream. "Five holes... I think it was supposed to mean that he knew what was going to happen, when we found you. Roderich. Eduard. Raivis." Italy paused, as they were both growing in nerves with each name, until he finally spoke softly. "Antonio." Romano's gaze fell, curling his fingers in his brother's hair. Italy reached up and wrapped his finger's around Romano's hands. "And I thought you were supposed to be in the last hole." Romano looked up to see Italy's eyes swimming with tears. "I was so scared, and hurt." He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Romano, his head dropping on his shoulder. "I thought I had lost you."

Romano held him close, remembering how terrified he was with thinking his little brother was dead. "I'm not dead." It was then that he realized the heart of the matter and why Italy had seemed so distracted all day. He stepped back, glancing down at him. "But if I'm not dead..."

Italy nodded, his eyes growing weary. "Who's in the fifth hole?"

As if in answer they heard screams, coming from the camper. Germany, Prussia, Lithuania, and Hungary all started for it, but Germany shoved his brother back into Hungary and told her to keep him there. Prussia wasn't too happy about this, but remembered he had promised Germany he'd be good.

Evidently, Sicily and Seychelles had made it back into the camper, but did not want to stay there. They bolted from the front door, and clung tightly to the two nearest nation's, nearly knocking Lithuania and Germany off their balance.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

They were both shaking, and pointed back to the camper door in time to see a small billowing shadow slide from inside. Germany and Lithuania shoved the two girl's behind them.

"No." Lithuania gasped, his heart sinking down into his feet. "Miss Bela."

Belarus stumbled from the front door, blood coating the front of her long flourishing dress. Her head surveyed the area, seemingly a bit lost, until she finally caught sight of the shell-shocked nations. She stumbled a bit, almost like she was unsure of which way she should go. It wasn't until she got closer that the full effect of this sudden change hit them, although the how was still unclear. Was she infected and none of them knew? Lithuania's heart began to pound. She had been so reclusive, when they left the pharmacy, and had found Sicily and Seychelles. Belarus kept insisting on talking to Russia, but the entire time, she refused to let anyone see her. Had she been bitten by then? Was she hiding it because she thought they would kill her, or did she not want them to worry? No one thought anything of it, because she was such a recluse from the beginning, but now that he thought back, she was acting a bit strange. She was back there with Hungary? Alone, for the most part. Did Hungary notice anything? Probably not, since she was so caught up with Austria's well being. How long was Belarus actually dead? So many uncertainties. If only he had pieced it together sooner, perhaps he could have done something. Nothing truly helpful came to mind, but Lithuania's mind was forced back to his baby brother. Perhaps her suffering could have ended sooner.

Seychelles shifted away from Lithuania, and slid closer to Germany, as he pulled both girls back. Lithuania just stood still. Watching the typically frightening features examining him as she made her way closer. She seemed so lost. So scared. So young. Such a gentle, timid expression was heart wrenching to see on her. "B...b..." Her lips moved, as if to try and speak, but only vague sounds came out. She grabbed the front of Lithuania's shirt, and pulled him closer.

Lithuania stared down at her, more sad than afraid of what she might do. He traced a hand over her cheek. "Forgive me, Ms. Bela. I have failed you." Her lips turned in towards his wrist, and a shot broke the still air, making everyone jump. Lithuania's amrs reached out and caught her, falling to his knees. His head searched around until he found Germany pointing a smoking gun at her. Germany took full note of the accusation in his eyes, but he simply holstered his gun, eyes narrowing. "I'm not losing anyone else. Not if I can avoid it."

Lithuania turned back to Belarus. Her eyes stared unseeing off into the distance, but her lips were still moving. He couldn't quite hear what she was saying, but a faint whisper touched his ears. "Bi – b-ther."

Lithuania's heart sank as her lips stopped moving, and she fell completely limp. "I don't see how it matters for you to save me now." He sighed, his entire body visibly deflating. "I'm as good as dead, once Russia finds out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Oh, poor Russia. (Is way too excited for him to find out. Can't really explain why though. Tis cute, but not truly epic... maybe a little.) So yay, now you all know. Prussia's fine. He can't die, he's the awesome Prussia. Though I totally already told you he was as good as dead... hmm... when oh when will dear Preußen die? Bwahaha. Now the question is though, are ya'll good with me sticking translations at the end? Would you like for me to shove it in the story, or do you even need them? all that's really in there, that maybe you won't get is:
> 
> Verstehen du? - Do you understand?  
> Ja, Ich verstehe - Yeah, I understand.  
> Stimmt etwas nicht? - Is something wrong?  
> Nein, es ist nicht - No, it is not.
> 
> At one point Lithi says "OH MY GOD!" but I figure that one's self explanatory. Eventually I will have every language say that.


	25. Chapter 25

With America and England out of commission, France, Canada and Russia were having to finish off the preparations. England was well enough to look after America, even if he wasn't fully up to assisting. Though Canada and France dropped in at random intervals to make such they were ok.

France had tried to contact Germany's group, but there was no way to get through to them. He had, however, gotten a hold of Japan and worked out a safe route for them, once they got into the country. Japan had a few undead, here and there, but not an extreme amount. His people had enough warning to find shelter, and very few casualties were reported. Apparently, China, Hong Kong, Korea and Taiwan were already there. Unfortunately, besides from them, he hadn't gotten word on anyone's location, or plans. It was frightening to think how many of them were already gone. It was truly isolating.

Around another day or two, and the small group was going over their supplies to try and make sure they were ready before setting out. Russia read off the list, and Canada checked off supplies. Not just for them, but they figured it was a good idea to bring something for any stragglers that had made it to Japan. "Foods?"

"Um. We don't have much but a few cans." Canada frowned. "At least their fairly big cans." He searched the bags until he found a can opener, and smiled. This was technically the reason they hadn't eaten them yet. "Wonder why Francis didn't think of this.

"I suppose he's not used to cans. Medical supplies."

"Cleaned out the pharmacy."

"Ammunition?"

Canada chuckled. "Got enough artillery in here to make Alfred swoon."

Russia laughed lightly. "We've already had enough of that. What about spare clothes?"

"Um." Canada riffled through the supplies. "We have some, but can't hurt to grab other stuff. As much as we can fit." He slid out of the truck. "I'm sure none of the other survivors have access to such things, and might be relieved for it." He glanced at the list. "Anything else we'll need?"

Russia scanned the items, double checking what they just went over. "Once Bonnefoy has returned with the water, we should be ready."

"What about gas?"

Both heads swiveled around towards a voice they did not expect to hear. America slid into the doorway, making his way over.

Canada's jaw dropped. "Alfred, what are you doing here? You should be resting."

America scoffed, waving a hand at him. "I'm fine. I was starting to get sick of laying around, anyway. So I made my brain stop bitching and got out of bed." He touched his chin thoughtfully, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Didn't really tell Iggy though. Bet he's gonna have a calf."

"Well, don't let it happen again, Comrade." Russia jibed. "You are heavy. Now what is this about gas?"

America's expression turned quizzical. "Gas." He pointed to the vehicles. "For the truck and the boat. It's a long way to Japan, dude." He cocked a brow at them. "I may be a good swimmer, but I can't lug all of ya'll with me.

Russia scanned the list again. Surely he had thought of this... he hadn't. His eyes scowled up at America. Curses. He had to give him that one.

America grinned, tapping his temple. "See, I can think of things."

"I suppose every dog has his day."

"Top dawg, ya mean." America commented, shooting finger pistols at him.

Canada face-palmed, but was smirking.

Russia, however, clung to the clipboard to keep from smacking America upside the head. "Ok then, You and Matvey can try to find gas. Bonnefoy and I will finished up here."

"Okie dey. Come on, Mattie." America grabbed Canada's wrist and dragged him along. Once they were out of the Parking Garage, Canada slipped his hand into America's. "Al?"

"Don't." America cut him off, and spun around, stopping Canada in his tracks. "I know what you're going to say, and don't. It's not worth it, now. We can discuss it once we get to Japan."

"But." Canada was a bit startled. He didn't think America was angry at him, but he definitely seemed annoyed. "What if something happens to one of us, before we get there?" He asked quietly, throwing America's own logic back at him. America's entire face narrowed into a scowl. Instantly, it dissolved into a wide grin. "Then it really won't matter." He leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Come on. Let's go find some gas."

xXx

"Alfred?... ALFRED! Where the bloody hell did you go!?" England rushed frantically through the corridors of the mall, having already checked the furniture store, searching for the formally fluish nation. This place, however, was very large, and filled with many many places for America to hide. Hell, he could barely find him in his own home, when he was little, let alone this big ass mall. "Alfred!" Finally, England resolved to check the Parking Garage where he was sure the others had gone. "Alfred. You in here?"

"What are you on about?" Francis asked, peering over at him from the side of the truck. "Arthur, what are you doing up and around?" He scolded, making his way over. "You should be resting."

"Well, I was, but that brain-dead son of mine seems to have run off. You haven't seen him, have you?"

France suddenly looked a bit worried. "Non. I haven't."

"He's fine." Russia threw out, slipping from the front seat, where he was loading up the water supply. "He and Matvey went to find some fuel."

"Ahh... I see." Any relief England had boiled up into rage. "Why the hell did he run off, without telling me he was alright then!?"

"Hey now, look who's awake."

"You." England growled and spun around to see Canada and America, each pushing small trolleys loaded with fuel cans. He advanced on them, waving a finger threateningly at America. "You have some nerve running off like that. Imagine me waking up to find you gone, with everything that's going on."

"I did imagine it." America commented lightly, smirking at him. "That's why I didn't tell you."

"Wha?" England's brain broke for a split second, trying to decipher the logic here. "Why then, if you knew I'd be angry, did you not see fit to inform me?"

"Because." He pushed the trolley on past, heading towards Russia. "You yelling at me is how I know you're ok."

England froze in his spot, rolling that last comment around in his head. Should he be appreciative of him saying that, or did America really like to piss him off? It was hard to say. England resolved to just slump to the ground, making France (who was looking right at him) extremely worried. "Arthur?" He rushed over, dropping to his knees next to him. "Is everything ok? Are you hurting again?" His expression fell, shocked to see that England was actually laughing.

"Arthur?"

England dragged his hand across his face. "Why do I put up with him?"

"Don't strain your brain, Arthur." France smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. "We all do, and none of us know why either. Come on." He grabbed England's arm, and helped him to his feet. "You should still be resting."

"I suppose." England stated wearily. Once the adrenaline for finding America had worn off, he suddenly felt very tired. Again, he didn't know why he was surprised. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence with him. He sighed, glancing back at America. Wondering how he could possibly be up and about already. "Bloody, yank."

"A thought's just occurred." Canada stated, scanning their rig. France having long gone with England, and didn't look to be coming back. "Shouldn't we be putting the supplies in the boat?"

Russia stopped to think about this for a bit. Obviously they couldn't take the truck with them, but he assumed it wouldn't matter once they got there.

"We can always transfer the stuff, once we get to the shore." America answered, at this point sitting in the truck with Russia, rearranging the supplies.

"But will we have time?"

Both America and Russia stopped and stared at each other. Would they have time?

"I mean, we don't know what's out there. It's taking a while to get everything in the truck. What if we're surrounded and only able to get ourselves into the boat? Then all of this will be for nothing."

There was a long pause from inside the truck. Both Russia and America's heads swiveled out to look back at the boat, then surveying the inside. Judging on how best to transfer what was already packed. Finally, America asked a more pressing question. "Will all of this stuff fit in the boat with us?"

By now, all three of them were going over the two vehicles and the supplies, trying to figure out how to do this. "We could get a dingy." America suggested. "Or some kind of storage boat to lug behind it."

Russia shook his head. "The spray from the motor would soak the supplies."

"Maybe just get a second motor boat then." Canada offered.

"But would we have the fuel to maintain both?"

"We could always get more." America suggested, sliding from the truck, and checking back over the boat.

"But could we rig a second one up to pull it?" Canada asked.

America examined the harness, and the rigging trailer. "Maybe. It'd be a bitch to haul though. Then comes up the issue of time again." He straightened up, wiping his brow. "Even with that, I don't think this truck has that kinda torque." An uncertain gleam slid into his eyes. "And I don't know about you guys, but I ain't lookin to go out there for another one. Those things have come up in droves."

"There's really no way to test if this vehicle can pull both." Russia stated, scanning the rigging as well.

"We really won't need that big of a boat." Canada added, finding his knowledge on this subject very lacking. "Just enough to hold what we need it to, and a driver."

Russia shook his head. "I still don't feel comfortable trying it. Not with us being surrounded."

The three of them fell into silent contemplation. Canada was only feeling partly guilty. Sure it was a fair point to being up, but a small part of him felt he shouldn't have said anything, without any idea of input.

America snapped his fingers, causing the other two nations to jump. "ATV's have a decent amount of torque. They're pretty good on fuel, and should be able to lug a small supply boat. I saw a few of them while we were siphoning gas."

"They don't have cover." Russia commented, with a scowl. "Is not safe for anyone to drive." Both Canada and Russia glared at America, knowing he was probably planning to be the one to take it.

"Uh, well, um, weeeee can try to make a covering for it."

Russia shook his head again. "Something strong enough to repel zombies would be too heavy. It would slow vehicle down."

"Then we get a two seater and have someone on cover fire."

Canada started. Not quite sure why that assessment made him nervous.

Russia made his way around the boat. "You are grasping at straws, Comrade. Are you serious with this plan, or do you just really want to drive this thing?"

"Actually, I was thinking you drive?"

"What?" Canada gasped, again not sure why he was so shocked.

Even Russia's eyes widened slightly.

"We don't have that many options. You drive the ATV, and I can cover you. We can go ahead and load the supplies in the boats. That way, even if we have to run straight into the water, everything will be set for us to go."

Both Canada and Russia were staring at him in shock.

America's face reddened. Confused as to why they were staring at him so strangely. "What? Does that not make sense?"

"I'm not... sure." Canada stated slowly, his head cocking to the side.

"There are many holes in this plan. However, it is unclear whether plan is madness or brilliance."

America felt his lips twinge into a grin. "Most of my plans start out crazy, I suppose. I'm better with thinking on my feet."

Russia shook his head. "How have you stayed alive so long?"

America beamed. That question was easy. "Because, I'm awesome."

xXx

"Are you mad!?" England cried, once he had seen what his former son had concocted.

"Ya know, Ivan said the same thing. And yet, he agreed to drive."

"Still not sure why." Russia commented, his brow furrowing. Finally, he shrugged. "Curiosity, I suppose. I want to see how well this one is with, how did you say, thinking on the feet?"

"Yea. That's about the gist of it."

Russia's chin fell into his hand. "Although I do not understand one thing. Tell me why it is, you are shooting?"

America shrugged. "We can trade off, if ya want."

Russia thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. "Niet. I see you drive. Is safer for you to have gun."

America laughed, chucking Russia on the shoulder. "You say the sweetest things, Ruski."

England gaped at them, feeling his confusion slowly rising. He felt a bit faint, but wasn't sure if he was overwhelmed by the sheer stupidity of this, or because he still hadn't fully recovered. Very hard to say, but he could be sure of one thing. They were both off their nut.

"Come, come, Arthur." France grasped England's shoulders. "Say something nice to them, then we can set out."

England looked up at France, then back towards the two somehow very callous nations. "You better not get your stupid selves killed."

France smirked, patting his shoulders. "Good enough. Good luck, you two." America saluted, and he led the still grumbling nation towards the truck. "Mad. Both of them. Completely off their nut."

"I know."

America laughed, then grinned at Russia. "Good to know he cares."

"All set." Canada stated, sliding off from where he was tying the supplies down. They had managed to find the equivalence of a motorized dingy, although slightly bigger, and hooked it to the back of the ATV. Canada made to stand next to the vehicle, twisting his fingers nervously. "I really feel like you should have someone else with you."

"Na. You stay in the truck, Bro."

"Jones is right. With Bonnefoy driving, you are needed to look after Kirkland."

Canada still didn't like it, but resolved to accept it made sense. America stepped off of the ATV and threw his arms around Canada pulling him tight. "It's not gonna do you any good to be worried."

"I know, but it won't stop me." Canada sighed, drawing him closer. "Just be careful."

"I will."

They stood there like that, for a bit, Canada mostly, not wanting to let go, until America finally pushed him back. "You guys lead the way."

Canada nodded, and smiled up at Russia. "You be careful too, Ivan."

Russia smiled. "Da. Just don't crash."

"Yea. We've had enough of that." America commented, climbing back in.

Canada laughed lightly, and ran over towards the door.

"You two make sure to wear your safety harnesses." England called from the truck, leaning over France in the driver's seat.

America checked the seats, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "It doesn't have any."

"What!?" They heard England growling back at them, but France forced him to sit back down, and fasten his own.

America laughed, and settled back into the seat, checking over his ammo. "We're better off. Those things are a hindrance anyways."

"Are you sure you are ready for this?"

"Huh?" America glanced over at Russia, closing the clip on his rifle with a loud click. "Yea, why?"

Russia shrugged. "Just curious." He left it at that and started the ATV, leaving America in confusion. "Why are you so weird?"

"I was born this way."

America laughed, reaching into his pocket. "And you fault me for that excuse." The engine on the truck started as he plucked out his wallet, and passed Russia two tens. "Here dude. Before I forget again."

Russia took the money, a bit surprised. "This is strange."

"Just wanted to make sure we had nothing left unsettled, in case I do get eaten."

Russia eyed the offer, slipping it in his pocket. "Don't you owe China money?"

America held a brief scowl that slowly slid into a condescending smile. "Technically my boss owes him money."

They were both startled by Russia's hysterical laughter.

A wide grin spread across America's face and he started laughing too. "That's an awesome laugh, dude. Remind me to amuse you more often."

"You'll have to survive to do that, da?"

"That I will, Comrade." America winked, imitating Russia's accent.

Canada called back to make sure they were ready. He pressed the button to open the door, and bolted back to the truck. Once he had made it into the cab, France started to inch out slowly. Some zombies had been alerted by the door, but others made their way closer with the movement of the truck. The initial plan was for France to just plow over any in the way, but apparently he thought this was going a bit too slowly. The Frenchman laid on the horn, his foot slamming down onto the accelerator, and sped out through the parking lot.

"Francis! Be careful of the boat." Canada cried, his head whipping back as it tilted to a dangerous angle.

"I have this under control." France assured him, but there seemed to be a strange gleam in his eyes.

"What the bloody hell are you doing anyway?" England asked, cringing at the turns pulling on his still sensitive skin.

"I want to try and get as many away from those two as I can." He looked back, and slammed on the horn again. Many started chasing after them, and a wicked grin slid onto France's face as he jerked the wheel, to check them into the other cars.

England grimaced, rolling his eyes. So that's where America got it from, cause he sure as hell didn't get it from him.

Canada's eyes watched their hitch, nervously, as well as looking back for Russia and America, who hadn't yet made it out of the garage. Mostly because France's initiative was a bit of a shock, but also because there was a mob of zombies running past the door.

America took aim with the rifle, but Russia placed a hand on the barrel, pushing it down. "Not yet."

"What? Why not? They could run in here." America retorted, making Russia more nervous at hearing the slight panic in his voice.

"Bonnefoy is trying to draw attention away from us. We can't alert them to our presence."

"But if we don't hurry up, we're gonna lose them."

"Is ok. We know where they're heading, so we can just meet up there." Russia secured his scarf, and revved the engine, preparing to take off. His eyes narrowed for an opportunity to make it through the crowd. "Hold on, Comrade." Russia shifted gears, slamming his foot onto the accelerator. America grasped onto the frame overhead, trying not to fall off. Russia plowed over a couple zombies, getting some air as he flew over. Landing with a rather unsettling bounce. He had to turn before he was able to adjust his speed properly, and the ATV tilted slightly. They both leaned to correct it, America throwing his weight over the side, still holding onto the padded frame. The vehicle corrected itself, and sped through the parking lot. America settled back into the seat, with a deep sigh. "And you say my driving's dangerous."

"Just trying to get out." He glanced over at America. "Just focus on your job."

"Yea, fine." America stood up, and threw his legs over the back of the seat, to clamp onto the frame. It was as good a fix as any, considering he couldn't hold on with his hands. Perhaps he should have invested in some rope. There were some figures running at them, from the right, and America picked them off easily, but more were still coming. America started laughing. "You'd think they'd realize they're gonna get shot."

"Must have something to do with the virus cutting off all common sense. Although, with that logic, I'm starting to wonder about you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean. Turning." America relented to grasp onto the frame, with his hands, just in time for Russia to whip the wheel to the side, plowing over a large group. "The lack of common sense. Are you sure you're not a zombie?"

"Pssht, I ain't as dumb as these things. At least I know to run away from the bullets." America started shooting again. "Plus I'm a lot prettier."

"Whatever you say, France." Russia laughed.

"Ouch, dude. That's low."

Speaking of France, they easily passed the truck, and America gave the driver a broad salute, as Russia rounded the last turn out of the mall parking lot. "Didn't think this thing went that fast."

"Anything is possible with Russian power." Russia smirked, and swerved to run over another stray zombie. That is eighty-nine, Jones."

"Oh. Are we still playing that game? Good." America laughed, shooting a couple more down. "Cause you're totally losing."

"You lie."

"Am not. I'm at like ninety-six. *bang* Seven."

"Then why don't you try to get some over here?"

America settled back to reload his gun. "Nah, you're doin alright." His point was proven by Russia swerving into some again. Unfortunately he was still reloading the rifle, and lost his balance. He tried to grab hold of something, and ended up dropping his gun, in the process of failing. Russia reached out and grabbed America's ankle. Unfortunately, by now, the stunned nation was hanging over the side at a bad angle. It took him a moment to realize his leg didn't hurt because he had fallen out, but because of Russia's grip putting the rest of the weight onto it.

"Can you get back up!?" Russia called over, slowing down.

"Hold on." America tried to pull himself back up enough to grasp onto the frame, but the strain on his leg was painful. Russia tried to help by pulling, but that just made it hurt worse. America forced his arm up to grab onto the bar. He pulled himself on up, and slid into the seat, a hand falling onto his chest. "Holy shit, Dude."

"You ok?"

"Yea, I think." America rubbed his leg, finding it difficult to move. "Man, I hate it when Iggy's right." He looked over himself, and whipped his head back to look along the road. "Shit man. I dropped my gun."

"You have others."

America pouted. "I liked that gun. It was my favorite gun. Her name was Verra."

Russia's expression took on a look of looking at a dirty idiot. "You name your guns?"

"Yea, sure. Don't you?"

"No."

"Any chance we can go back for her?"

"I don't think so."

"Aw." America slumped in the seat, folding his arms, but the movement drew his attention back to his leg, and he rubbed it again.

Russia glanced over at him. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I don't think so. Just strained a bit." He sighed, resolving to rest for a while. There weren't too many lining the roads. Apparently Russia's tactics of drawing them all to the mall had worked. Too bad there was more than they could kill. Russia did a decent enough job running over any along the road, and America didn't even care that his kill count was going up. He just wanted his gun back.

xXx

"Did you guys know that vehicle could go that fast?" France asked as the crazed ATV whizzed past them. Apparently the laws of boat didn't apply to them.

Canada and England shook their heads, their faces settled into shock. "They're going to get themselves killed." England commented.

"Hope not. They have the supplies."

"Matthew!" England scolded, shocked at his indifference. "That's not appropriate."

Canada whipped his head towards him, a small smile slowly inching onto his face. Soon, he started laughing. "Sorry. Just trying to diffuse the tension." His unsure laughter settled into a moan, and he dropped his head into his hand, gazing out the window. "Yea. Guess I'm not too good at that."

"Don't start acting like your brother. The world can only handle one America."

Canada laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Fair enough."

With the roads clearer, it didn't take too long to catch up to the rambunctious duo. Or at least within eyesight. "See. We didn't lose them."

A bit later the ATV swerved, and something fell over the side bouncing off the asphalt. England nearly stood on his seat, looking eagerly out the windshield. "Was that Alfred? Tell me it wasn't Alfred!"

Canada helped him look out for the lump laying on the side of the road. He was relieved but also a bit sad. "Aww, Verra."

"What?"

"Alfred must have dropped his gun."

"What's that?" France indicated back to the ATV just in time to see a figure slide back into the seat.

England clenched his fist and huffed, giving what must have been a one armed arm fold. "I told him. I tried to warn him, but he never listens to me."

"Arthur, calm down."

"No, no. That boy's gonna get himself killed, and I'm not even gonna care. All I'll have to say is, 'I told you so.' Cause I did. Just watch." He nearly hissed, settling back in to a pout. Mumbling further about stubbornness. "I repeat." England suddenly stated, waving a finger in Canada's face. "Don't turn into your brother. That foolish little – ugh." He started pouting again, this time about how no one ever listens to him. Canada just stared at England, then glanced up with hearing France laughing.

France was just shaking his head at England's fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: ARGH so much brain bitching with this. I was gonna go a bit further, but I figured this was already long enough, and I kinda decided late in the game to go somewhere else with Germany's group... even if every fiber in my being is telling me it might not be such a good idea. Also the anxiety to actually get to where I know what happens. 2 Chapters away from Japan... then I'll be just over halfway... maybe... possibly... eh, I dunno anymore.
> 
> Oh yea, side note. I have some moments plotted out for America and Russia to bond over the joy of killing zombies, but now they seem to be going off again. They're bonding without my permission, and I don't know how I feel about this. And PLEASE tell me someone got the reference. If you have to ask what reference then you probably didn't get it. (Here's a hint: Jayne.)


	26. Chapter 26

The entire camper had fallen into a thick silence, as Germany finally felt they could move out again. The Italies were curled up with the girls again, but it wasn't assured how much they really wanted them there. Prussia made his way up to the front and sat in the passenger seat with a low sigh. Fading into a brief silence. "So-" Prussia started, but they both started talking at the same time. They exchanged brief looks, then Germany spoke. "You first."

Prussia smirked, settling into a more comfortable position. "You heading to Japan?"

Germany moaned. He didn't quite know how to answer. "Possibly. We're heading Eastward to try and stay ahead of the zombies, until we hear word from the others."

Prussia's eyes quirked in confusion. "Hold on. You mean, you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Japan put out a bulletin saying he had a safe house for any survivors. It was all over the radio."

Germany's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Belarus was the last one to have the radio." He groaned, something clicking together in his memory. "The battery must have finally died, before the message came through."

Prussia started to get up. "I can check."

"Don't bother. Do you remember what it said?"

Prussia settled back into the seat. "Just that we needed to head for the CDC in Tokyo. He gave coordinates, but I can't quite remember."

"Tokyo's not too large. I'm sure we could find it."

"Hope so. Now, what were you going to say?"

Germany shrugged. "I was just going to ask how Elizaveta was doing."

"She's ok. Relatively speaking." Prussia settled into the chair more, staring out the window. "She fell asleep some time ago."

"Good. I don't think she's slept since Roderich died."

Prussia hummed thoughtfully, a sad smile touching his lips. "She stole my coat too."

Germany looked over at him strangely. "She took your coat?"

"Ja. She's laying back there, curled up in it." He shrugged. "I suppose it's ok. She can't really wear that dress anymore."

"We'll have to find her some new clothes then."

"Ja." Prussia sighed, and fell silent again, continuing to stare out the window.

Germany could feel the unsettling air radiating from his brother. It was a very strange feeling, and Germany greatly wished it would go away. It wasn't like Prussia to be this way. "Are you ok?"

"Hmm?" Prussia glanced up, but didn't actually look back at Germany. "Ja, I'm fine." He pulled up his shirt, examining the wrappings. "It still hurts like hell, but should mend in no time. Then I'll be ready to-"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Prussia's throat went dry. He licked his lips, trying very hard not to look up at Germany.

"I know you two weren't that close, but I feel like you and Roderich were still some form of friends." Germany glanced over, trying to read his brother's expression. Prussia wasn't making it easy to tell what he was thinking, but there was definitely unease in his eyes. Maybe even the potential for tears. "You can't tell me you're ok with this."

Prussia swallowed a lump in his throat, and huffed. "You make it sound like I should be torn up about this."

"Maybe not that extreme."

"Well, I'm not, ok?" Prussia snapped, finally turning towards Germany. "Yea, it sucks that Roddie's dead, but I can't change anything about that." He sighed, slumping back in his chair, and stared out the window again. "My only concern is Liz."

Germany watched him for a bit, then forced his focus on the road. "You can tend to Elizaveta, and still be sad yourself."

"How are you planning to get to Japan, anyway?" Prussia asked suddenly, breaking the conversation.

Germany stuttered, unsure. He really hadn't given much thought to it. Obviously the camper wouldn't be able to travel over water. So, how were they going to get over there? "We'll have to come up with something."

"We could get a canoe, or something. I'm sure we can get there fast enough with our combined rowing power." Prussia's face lit up a bit.

"You're not rowing anywhere. It's too much strain on your wound." Germany snapped.

Prussia smirked. "Just a thought. I'm sure we'll find a way. Perhaps a plane."

"We can try to stop by the hanger Ivan and the others left from." Germany threw out, watching as a slue of zombies made their way across the road ahead of them. "There's bound to be something we can use there."

"It'd be a lot safer than traveling over land for much longer." Hungary commented softly, stepping up between them. She drew Prussia's coat in tighter around her, continuing to fasten the buttons. "We should be able to arrive there by tomorrow." Her eyes wandered out over the horizon towards the congregating masses. "If we don't run into any further complications."

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Germany threw out.

"I don't have time to rest, and it's not good for certain individuals to trick me into doing so." She stepped up between them, (lightly smacking Prussia in the process) her eyes narrowing on the figures in the distance.

Both Prussia and Germany mimicked her gaze as well. "The numbers seem to be increasing. We'll have to hurry."

"Definitely."

The horde of zombies scrambled around the area, and it was a bit strange that they hadn't really noticed them. Something up ahead seemed to have their attention. However interesting it might be, Germany had no intention of seeking out their destination. He inched by gently, until he had seemed to pass their point of interest. Just as he tried to speed away, two figures rushed out in front of the camper. Even if they were undead, the instincts made Germany swerve to avoid them, even if it did cause him to mow over another large group. The camper skidded to a halt, creating a bit of a commotion from the back.

"What's happened?" Lithuania called, running towards the front. "Is there trouble?"

"Nothing bad. Just some road blocks. We'll be fine if we stay in here." He started to shift the peddles when one of the girls gasped, from the back. "There's someone out there."

"NEIN!" Germany called back. "I'm not ricking anymore lives."

"But, Mr. Germany." Sicily whined, running up to the front. "We have to help-"

"It's too dangerous." Germany rounded on her trying not to growl. "We don't know who or what all is out there, or if they are infected or not. It's not worth risking anymore of our lives."

"But."

"No. It's safer this way. I don't like it anymore than you do, but it has to be."

Italy leaned up to look out of the window to try and make out the two figures collapsed on the other side of the road. They seemed to be hurt. Possibly dying, but there was no clear way to be sure. Germany was right, but he still doubted he'd be able to make that kind of decision. Italy clung tighter to Romano, glancing up at Germany. In fact everyone seemed to be doing the same thing. Germany was trying his best to ignore the multiple eyes staring at him, and keep his own on the road.

"Liz, grab a weapon." Prussia stated plainly, rising from his seat. Hungary nodded and rushed towards the back.

"Gilbert, what are you doing?" Germany asked, starting to slow down. When he didn't get a response, he slammed his foot on the break, turning around. "Gilbert!"

"Don't worry so much, Lutz. You don't have to make a decision." He hefted up his sword, grinning up at him. "I am."

"Nein, Du sind es nicht!" Germany put the camper (quite violently) in park, and stormed towards his brother. "You are not going out there, do you understand me?" He tried to impress his presence over him. "You are still hurt, and I will not allow you to leave this vehicle."

Hungary returned with a rifle, frying pan hanging from her hip, but froze as the brothers stared each other down in silence. Germany looked on the verge of ripping his head off, but Prussia's expression was very calm. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't glaring, just a very callow expression was firmly plastered on his face. Calmly, Prussia took in a deep breath, stepping into him. "You can command me all you like, Kleiner Bruder, but that does not mean I will obey. You, of all beings, should know better." Prussia's impact kept growing, making Germany appear to be getting younger. "I fully take your concern into consideration, but there's nothing you can truly do to stop me. Now, you hold down the fort, while Lizzy and I inspect the area." Prussia headed for the door, with Hungary right behind, and somehow Germany didn't move to stop him.

Germany stared down at the ground, his shaking fists clenched at his sides. Once the two nations had left, closing the door behind them, Germany's head snapped up to the door. His eyes were still raging. He snorted like a bull, rushing over to lock the door.

"Ludwig!" Italy gasped. "What are you doing?"

Germany crossed to the shelves behind the couch, and grabbed a gun. "Making sure they can't get in."

"They who?" Sicily asked. "You mean the zombies, right?"

"Everyone. Get to the center of the camper. Away from the windows. If you have a weapon, grab it." Germany ordered, making his way to the front to keep an eye on Prussia and Hungary. He was glaring out at them, and their impertinence. "Schmerzen in den Arsch. Sie sind nicht immer weg mit dieses." Italy watched Germany as he faded off into a dull rumble of words he was pretty sure it'd be better for him not to understand. There was slight thumping on the sides of the van, and he felt Romano draw in closer to him. He was muttering something in his own language as well. Of course, he understood this, but the context wouldn't be difficult to grasp even if he didn't. Something about Prussia being an idiot again.

Prussia knocked a few back, while exiting the camper, but Hungary was all over them from the start. She whipped out her pan, and slammed the side of it straight up into the closest one's head, knocking it's face clean off, and moved swiftly to the next. Prussia was working his way to the other side of the road, but Hungary seemed far more interested in slaughtering these vile creatures. She slipped through, easily switching between her pan, and gun to get the best angle and kill any in her path. They all needed to die.

Prussia slung his sword to decapitate one in his path, a sharp pain nearly making him drop his sword. He checked his wound, a bit nervous. Thankfully it hadn't started bleeding again. "Verdammt." He growled, but there was another coming up behind him, and he had to swing around to kill it. He spotted the two figures slumped on the side of the road, and a small group of zombies closing in on them. He whipped around to try and find, Hungary. "LIZ!?"

She wasn't paying him any mind.

"LIZ!" Prussia flinched when he heard a gunshot whiz by his head. He whipped around to see Germany cock his gun, still glaring daggers at him. His attention diverted to the figures, seeing a sword glint in one of their hands. The other not moving. Hungary yelped as a hand closed around her neck, and she swung her pan to knock it off. Prussia groaned, running over towards her. She was so vindictive against these things that she was bound to wear out and then he'd have three injured to deal with. "Elizaveta!" He called, running over towards her. She was so drawn into her confrontation that she didn't even notice him coming towards her. "Eliza-" Prussia had barely laid a hand on her arm when he heard a loud clang right next to his ear.

"GILBERT!" She screamed, realizing what she had done, and knelt next to him, shaking him awake. "Gilbert, I'm so sorry. Are you ok? Gilbert!?"

Prussia's vision swam into focus. "You'd think I'd be used to that, by now."

"Are you ok?"

"Yea, fine." He groaned, sitting up, a hand falling to his head. There were more gunshots and the few stragglers collapsed around them. "We should hurry."

Hungary helped him to his feet, and they ran towards the collapsed duo. The figure with the sword swung weakly, and hit the nearest zombie, but it didn't even stop it, so Hungary and Prussia had to take care of the small group.

The sword hand collapsed to the ground, dropping it's weapon. "Teşekkür ederim."

Prussia eyed the man, thinking that he recognized him. Hıs body looked like it had been clawed and shredded a hundred times over. Brown hair, and a good chunk of his face covered with blood. He even wracked his brain to try and pin down the language. The other figure was completely unconscious, and also bloody, though not as much. However, this nation he recognized. Which means the conscious nation must be. "Sadiq? Mein Gott. What happened to you?"

"Well, ya know. End of the world does tend to take it's toll."

Hungary dropped to her knees, next to Greece, rolling her over in his arms. He wasn't moving, or even trying to open his eyes.

"He's ok." Turkey laughed, his head rolling to look at them.

"Are you sure? He's unconscious and covered in blood." Her hand located a rather large lump on the back of his head.

"I'm pretty sure that's mostly my blood." He coughed, the motion obviously causing problems. Turkey's eyes closed gently, though his voice didn't seem to falter. "I had to knock his stupid ass out because he wouldn't leave the damn cats."

"Well, come on." Prussia grabbed Turkey's arm, and tried to help him up. "We're gonna get you some help."

"No." Turkey groaned, not wanting to be moved. He coughed again, sputtering blood on Prussia. "No. Just take him." He weakly waved a hand towards Greece. "I'm as good as dead. Just get him to-to Kiku." He started coughing again, unable to catch his breath.

"Ok. Just take it easy." Prussia laid him back down.

Turkey's hand snapped out to grab his shirt, and jerked him closer. Prussia cringed at the pressure against his wound. "Don't let his stupid ass get killed. Do you understand me?" Turkey growled spitting blood at him. "I didn't go through all of this bullshit just to have him die. Make sure he gets to Japan." Prussia started to believe he understood why Turkey always wore a mask. Although it may have just been the situation, but there was an intensity in his eyes that sent an odd thrill through Prussia's body. He couldn't help but nod his head. "We'll take care of him."

"Here." Turkey pushed his sword into Prussia's hand, and started coughing again, unable to catch his breath again. The grip on his shirt loosened.

"Sadiq?"

"That idiot's gonna need something."

Prussia eyed the offer, and nodded slowly.

"Hey, Hun." Turkey gasped, reaching a hand towards Hungary's gun. "Care to do me a favor?"

Hungary followed his hand, sliding her own on top of it, and squeezed. No further confirmation needed to be exchanged. A look of pained understanding creased her brow. Hungary placed to barrel of the gun to Turkey's forehead and fired.

I'd like to say they were able to dispose of his body properly. Hell, I'd even be relieved with a solemn silence held over him, but no such luck. Hungary and Prussia had to gather Greece up as fast as they could and run back for the camper. Prussia and Germany held cover. Both because Prussia was not in any fit state to carry Greece and run, and they didn't need Hungary getting caught up in killing these things again.

Sicily rushed to unlock the door, and Germany commanded Lithuania to take the wheel while he helped Hungary tend to Greece.

Prussia slumped heavily in the bench around the table. He was suddenly very tired, a hand falling to his wound. His eyes drifted out the window back to where Turkey's body was being devoured by the few living zombies. The pain shifted to sickness, and Prussia had to turn his eyes away, feeling very dizzy.

"-bert?" He moaned, trying to focus on the figured in front of him. A pair of hands came up to shake his head. "Gi-ert... -ok at m-"

Prussia shook his head together and glanced up at Italy. "Feli?" Romano was looming behind him, still very concerned for him. It really was kinda cute.

"Gilbert? Are you ok?"

Prussia wracked his brain for a response. "Am I bleeding?"

Italy checked real quick, then shook his head. "No."

"Then I just need a nap." He laid down on the bench and closed his eyes.

xXx

Prussia opened his eyes a few seconds later. At least that's what he thought. The sun was blazing in his eyes, and he was rocking funny. Apparently he had been moved into a sitting position. It kinda felt like the passenger seat. He tried to move, but found he was unable to. What really scared him with this is that it wasn't just him being sore or exhausted that was enabling him to move. Prussia's eyes snapped open to examine himself. He was indeed sitting in the passenger seat and thick ropes were thrown around him, binding him to the seat. Even his arms were pinned to the armrest. Prussia struggled a bit, but that just agitated his wound. His brain reeled a bit, until finally falling onto a solution, and he laughed lightly. "I guess he wasn't kidding." He glanced towards the drivers seat, expecting to see Germany, but Lithuania was there instead. "Did Lutz do this?"

Lithuania nodded slowly. "He did?"

Prussia tried not to smirk, but it wasn't possible. "Is he mad at me then?"

"Very."

Prussia snorted, trying his very best not to be too amused. "I suppose I shouldn't try to get out then?"

"Might be wise." For the first time, since he'd gotten there, Prussia saw Lithuania crack a small smile.

"So how's Heracles?"

"Surprisingly well." Lithuania answered, a small tilt to his head. "They cleaned the blood off, and he's actually unhurt. Well, aside from the bump on his head. He still hasn't woken up though."

"Really? Damn. Sadiq must have clocked him good." Prussia shifted uncomfortably. He greatly hoped he wouldn't have to get out of here by himself. He didn't like having baby brother mad at him. "How long was I out?"

"Only about half an hour."

"Oh, well that's good. I was afraid I'd lost another day or two again."

Lithuania glanced over at him, his gaze flicking briefly back to the road. "Are you really ok, Mr. Prussia?"

Prussia glanced over at him. "Ja. I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, it's just." Lithuania turned his attention fully back to the road. "Mr. Germany said your wound didn't open or anything, but you were breathing really funny, in your sleep. You were sweating really badly too."

A guilty smile slid onto Prussia's face. He was making them worry again. "I'm ok. I guess I overexerted myself." His eyes drifted back out to the horizon. Germany was right. He could be kinda stupid.

"It's a shame we couldn't save Mr. Turkey."

Prussia glanced over to see Lithuania flash him a small smile. "At least Mr. Greece is ok, though." It wasn't clear if it was an offhanded comment or if Lithuania was trying to make him feel better. Either way, Prussia smiled. "Ja. It is."

xXx

A little later, Greece's eyes gently opened, staring vaguely up at the ceiling. "Mr. Heracles?" A cool rag traced along his brow, and Greece turned towards Sicily, who was sitting next to him. "Are you ok?"

It took Greece a moment to realize something was off. Why was his body rocking? Where did this girl come from? Where was Turkey? Greece's focus came back in full. He gasped, sitting up at a dizzying speed. "Sadiq!?" He cried, looking area in hysteria. "What's happened? Where am I?"

"Heracles, it's ok?" Germany made his way over, nudging Sicily back and away from the panicked nation. "Calm down. You're safe now."

Greece's body may have calmed down, but his breathing didn't. "I don't understand! Where did you come from? How did I get here? Where's Sadiq!?" His eyes were tearing up, from fear of what could be going on. "What's happening?"

"Heracles." Germany spoke softly, moving to place a hand on his arm. "I know you have a lot of questions, but you need to try and calm down."

His breathing slowed into more of a whimper, settling onto the couch. "What happened?" His voice was shaking, body shivering slightly. Hungary slid a blanket over his shoulders, making him jump, but he settled down a bit when she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "We found you and Sadiq out along the road."

"Where is he?"

Hungary's eyes narrowed a touch, shifting downwards.

A vague understanding appeared to be settling in on him. He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I don't understand. Last thing I saw there were reports of people eating each other. Crazy people." He dropped his head into his hands, as though trying to guard himself from the memory. "Next thing I know, they're in my house, and Sadiq comes in too." He paused, trying to remember what happened next. "Then a sharp pain... and black." Greece raised his head to take in his surroundings. "Then I woke up here." A glaze took over his eyes. "Something about a virus." His voice slowly faded from its hysteria. Into a dull whisper. "What happened to Sadiq?"

Germany and Hungary exchanged a look. "He's dead." Germany stated softly, sitting on the end of the couch. "He was pretty bad off, by the time Liz and my brother found you two."

Greece's eyes widened further, his breathing kicking up again. "No." He shook his head. "He can't be."

"It's true." Hungary elaborated. "He asked me to end his pain."

"Nonono!" Greece pulled at his hair, body rocking slightly. "This can't be. No. Sadiq can't be dead. No." His hands worked their way to the back of his head, pressing in on the large lump.

Germany placed a hand onto his shoulder, but Greece seemed to be paying him no mind. He continued to mutter softly to himself, rocking faster until Germany spoke again. "He told us to get you to Japan."

Greece's head snapped up. "He what?"

"Kiku put out a bulletin a while ago. Said for all surviving nations to head to his country. We were on our way, when we spotted you."

The last bit of color left in Greece's face drained out of him. He stood up quickly, and headed towards the back of the camper.

"Hera-" Hungary started after him, but Germany held up a hand to stop her, shaking his head.

xXx

Greece stopped right in front of the curtains, inside the back room. This room was a lot colder than the rest of the camper. The air was thick, and there was blood on two of the beds. It felt like death in here... perfect. He flopped down on the only clean bed, and drew the sheets tightly around his shoulder, only just realizing how much he was shaking. He had started crying, but tried his best to stay quiet. If Turkey heard him, he'd mock him mercilessly. That dumbass. He wasn't a little kid anymore. Why did he have to save him like that?

xXx

The whole of the vehicle fell into silence. After a while Germany made his way up towards the front. He considered taking the wheel back from Lithuania, but he knew where the air force base was better than he did. Instead, Germany leaned on the back of the passenger seat, eying his brother. "As for you."

Prussia looked up at him, trying to appear as innocent as possible.

"Don't think you're getting off that easily."

"I'm still alive." Prussia stated. "I'm not even hurt."

"This is true."

"Elizaveta's not hurt."

"Also true."

"We even helped someone."

"That's not the point." Germany snapped, a lot calmer than anyone thought he would.

Prussia snorted. "I don't see what the big deal is. It didn't harm anything. In fact, it was a plus. So why are you still mad?"

"Because, you could have gotten hurt." Germany's hands gripped onto the head and arm rests, leaning into Prussia's face. "We could have lost someone, and not have saved anyone. Just because it worked out in our favor does not mean it was a good idea. It was too risky, bruder." Germany's voice was growing snappier and lower until he was nearly growling. "We have lost far too many of our group already, I don't want to risk anymore lives, just for the sake of one or two."

"I'm sure Heracles is thankful. Even Sadiq."

Germany really did growl. "I am truly thankful we were able to help Heracles. I really am, but that doesn't make what you did any less dangerous."

"Well, what if it was you?" Prussia snapped back. His amusement of Germany's annoyance having died. "Or me? What if I was out there, laying on the side of the road? Are you saying you wouldn't stop to help me, because it's too risky?"

Germany's eye twitched, the glare increasing.

"Just because he's not that important to you, doesn't mean we should just ignore someone in need of help."

"I'm not saying that."

"Well, that's how it sounds." Prussia stated firmly, ignoring the grip tightening near his head. "You say you don't want to risk a group for one, but I know for sure if it was me, or Kiku, or even Feliciano, you'd never hesitate." He stopped, taking a moment to catch his breath. His presence sat up straighter, even if his body couldn't. "So don't talk to me like you wouldn't do the same thing."

Germany glared daggers at him, his breath kicking up. You could even hear his teeth grinding. Finally, he pushed off of the chair, with enough force to jar Prussia, and stormed to the back.

Prussia took a moment to cringe at the wound being agitated again, then pulled at the ropes. "You do realize I could get out of these, if I wanted."

"I know." Germany huffed, flopping heavily onto the couch. (It's a bit strange to see someone like him pouting.) "I just trust you know what will happen if you do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, I was debating on a long time on whether or not I should have the whole thing with Turkey and Greece. I was afraid Greece would turn out to be another Croatia. That I would bring him in just to have that scene, and then he'd die off very quickly. Then my brain goes, "No no. He can be useful. Not extremely useful, but useful enough." So, I brought Greece in YAY!
> 
> Also, there is so much German swearing in this. So much German rage, that it might not be a good idea not to translate. ^^; Ok, I just don't feel like it. Just know that Germany's pissed. Kleiner Bruder just means little brother... and Turkey said thank you.


	27. Chapter 27

The group closed in on the shore, alternating between drivers along the way. America and Canada were currently driving and half of this party seemed to think they were racing. One guess as to which half. Canada was a bit distracted at the amusement of England sleeping with his head on France's shoulder. France just smiled warmly down at him, stroking a hand through his hair, crooning melodically, "Mon cher. Mon cher. Mon Angleterre."

Canada laughed lightly. "He's gonna hurt you, when he wakes up."

"I know." France smirked, still stroking his head. "But he is so cute when he's asleep, and not yelling."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'll keep that in mind, mon fils."

Canada's heart skipped a beat, his face heating. He bit his lip, eyes flicking towards France. "Francis... I'm not-"

"I know." France sighed, his expression fading. "I guess I've just been reminiscing. Thinking about the old days. When you were still mine, and flesh eating monsters were not lurking around every corner." He stroked England's head again. Tenderly. As if he were his child. "I miss it."

Canada's mind rolled off in contemplation, not really paying much attention to the later statement. "I miss it, too." He paused again, not wanting to add his afterthought. He wasn't truly lying when he said it, but there were indeed parts of growing up between France and England that he didn't miss.

France looked up at him, reading the fall in his demeanor. "What is with that face?"

Canada shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Come now, mon cher. It does no good to try and hide things from me. I can tell."

"I'm not hiding anything."

France smiled reassuringly, trying to ease Canada into some sense of comfort. "Don't be silly. You can not lie to me, Matthieu."

Canada let out an aggravated sigh. "Francis."

"Matthieu, you can-"

"Francis, just drop it!" Canada finally snapped, wringing his hands around the steering wheel.

France fell silent, and England stirred in his sleep. Eyes fluttering a bit; as if daring to wake up. With a soft moan, he nuzzled closer into France. Either unaware, or not caring anymore about how close he was to him.

Knowing France had to be watching him, Canada bit his lip to try and keep it from trembling. He forced his face into a straight mask, but he wasn't nearly as good at hiding as his brother was. There was a strong urge to scream, or cry, or do something. There was just a pent up ball of nerves, building up in his chest, and he didn't truly know why. Sure he had an inkling, but there was so many possibilities passing through his head that it was difficult to pin down a solid explanation.

"Matthieu?" France slid a hand onto his shoulder and Canada was greatly tempted to knock it away. "It is not good to keep things pent up."

At that comment, Canada gave a short laugh. He'd definitely heard that before. "Believe me, I know. Just..." He shook his head again, glancing over at France. "Let me figure out what it is first. Ok?" He sighed, exasperated. "I don't really know what to say." Or rather what was a good idea to confide with France about.

France watched him in silence, possibly trying to read what was going through the young nation's mind. His eyes narrowed sadly, at least one possibility springing to mind. "Alfred."

Canada pursed his lips, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. France wasn't going to let this drop, was he? If he wasn't so annoyed, he might have found the redundancy amusing again. Perhaps it really was genetic.

"All that's going on and you're worried about him."

"I'm always worried about him. Arthur's right. He's so reckless. He's going to get himself killed." He breathed deep to steady himself.

"Matthieu."

"I'll just feel better once we're safe. Once we're under cover, and finally figuring this out."

France reached over and brushed a hand against Canada's cheek. "We will be safe soon enough."

"Yea well, that's not soon enough. Maybe I've had one too many movie nights with Al that I'm starting to wish we could teleport."

"That is wishful thinking indeed." France may have been talking to Canada, but he was leaning up and looking out at something more interesting. "What are they doing?"

"What?" Canada suddenly perked up, trying to see what France was seeing. The ATV had pulled to the side of the road and stopped. Canada pulled the truck up next to them to see what was going on. America swung out of the driver's seat and over the side.

"Alfred!?" Canada and France leaped from the cab and made their way over. America had a hand against the side of the vehicle to hold himself up, his legs shaking. Canada dropped a hand on his back. "Alfred, are you ok?"

America coughed, holding a hand up to him. "I'm ok." He spit something up, his hand coming back to his lips. "Not much to come up."

"That doesn't mean you're ok. Come on." Canada took America's arm, coaxing him back towards the ATV. "Take a seat." He sat down on the step up to the door, his head hanging between his arms. Canada knelt in front of him, rubbing his back. "Just take it easy."

"What happened?" France asked, rounding the vehicle and dropped down next to Canada. America started coughing again, coupled with some dry heaving.

Russia had slid into the driver's seat. "He started to turn white, then swerved off the road."

"Dude, you make it sound like I lost control."

Canada patted his back. "Then how would you explain it?"

"I just got car sick." America lifted his head, a hand raking through his hair. "We were swerving a lot. It happens." He gagged, bringing a hand to his mouth again. Canada rubbed his back, rolling his eyes up towards France. None of them believed him. "Whatever you say, Al."

America frowned, looking up at him. "Don't use that tone with me."

"I'm not using a tone." Canada stated, taking more care to keep the condescension from his voice. "It's fine. We've been driving for hours. We could use a break anyway."

France glanced around the area. "We're almost there. What good will it do to rest now?"

"We're almost to the shore, Francis. We can't stop once we're on the water." Canada responded, not paying much attention to France's nervous demeanor. "Now's as good a time as any."

France rubbed a chill from his arms, eyes still scanning the grounds. "I just don't like being out in the open like this." He climbed up into the ATV next to Russia. "Makes me feel uneasy."

"We haven't seen anything for miles." Russia assured him. "Just keep your eyes open."

"We'll be ok, Francis." America pitched in, spitting again. "We don't need to stay here that long."

"We're not in any hurry." Canada retaliated, continuing to rub his back. "Japan's not going anywhere."

"The sooner the better though."

Canada sighed, glancing up at Russia and France, the later of whom shrugged.

America moaned, sitting up. His face having been shaded, the light stung his eyes. "I'm ok."

"Are you sure."

"Yea. Just a bit tired." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm alright."

"Either way. I think we should stay here for a while longer." Canada sat up straighter, stretching his legs. "Driving's tiring, eh."

America slumped against the door frame, smiling at his brother's concern. Did it count towards him getting better at lying if it's partially true?

"Hey." All heads spun around towards the truck with the sound of England's voice. "Where'd everyone go?"

"Hold on." France slid from the ATV and made his way back over. "We are just making a quick rest stop. You were sleeping so peacefully. I did not wish to wake you."

England slid to the edge of the driver's seat and scanned the area. "Is everything ok?" He was obviously still drowsy.

"Everything's fine."

"Then why have we stopped?"

"Just taking a break, before we arrive at the shore."

"Oh. Good." He spotted the others, and started to climb from the truck. "I'd like to stretch my legs." France grabbed his arm to help him climb down, but was swatted away. "I got it."

France hesitated only slightly, then moved back in, scowling at England's stubbornness. "Don't be so pig headed. You are still weak."

"I said, I'm alright." He shoved him away and started to step out.

"Arthur."

England's foot fished for the ground. "I don't need any help." He slightly underestimated the length to the ground, and stumbled. France grabbed his arm at the same moment his hand grabbed out for the door. They both froze as England tried to regain his balance.

"You were saying, mon ami?"

"Shut up." England snapped, jerking away from France's grip. "I wouldn't have had a problem if you had kept your hands off me." He started off, straightening his clothes.

France frowned, watching him walk off, then scoffed. "You are welcome."

England tried his best to not show any signs of fatigue as he approached the other three nations. "Is everything alright over here?"

"Yea Iggy." America answered convincingly, kicking dirt over his mess. "Although I believe the real question is, 'are you really fit to be walking around?'"

England scoffed. "I'm more than capable of handling myself, thank you very much." He planted a fist on his hip, nose sniffing the air. "Just because I've lost an arm does not mean I am helpless."

"That is true, Ig." America smirked, bringing his foot up into the vehicle, and propping his arm on his knee. "But the fact that this is a new development does."

Canada gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "He has a point, Arthur."

England tutted at them. "Come now. There's no need for you all to be making such a fuss." He straightened his clothes importantly. Or, I suppose, pompously. It can be difficult to tell with England. "A good cup of tea and I'll be right as rain."

America rolled his eyes, folding his arms behind his head. "Too bad I don't have any leaves. Although." His feet kicked idly at the ground, continuing in his worst impression of a Cockney accent. "I suppose this grass might make a smashing good tea." He smirked back at England. "Don't ya think, Gov'nah?"

Canada always tried his hardest not to laugh when America mocked England, but he could never help it when his brother slipped into a British accent. No matter how obnoxious he made it sound.

"No, I don't think it will make a good tea." England fumed, marching around the ATV towards America.

"What? You don't fancy grass?" America continued with the accent, though it was settling into sounding a tad more Scottish.

"You don't make tea from grass. Surely you must know that."

"You don't." He turned to Canada. "Did you know that?"

Canada shrugged. "Can't say I did." It would have been good for him to imitate the accent as well, but he feared he wouldn't be able to hold back his laughter if he did. "I always thought it was grass."

"It's green though, right?"

"I believe so."

"Then it surely has to be grass."

"It's not grass." England growled through gritted teeth, his ears tinged red.

"No, you know what." Russia smacked America's arm to draw his attention. He did attempt a British accent, but his own was so thick that it drowned it out, and he shortly gave up on it. "Maybe it's frogs."

"Oi, Iggy." America smirked, (He loved having Russia get in on the jokes.) then turned to England in amused disgust. "You drinkin ickle froggies?"

England clenched his fist at his side, his face heating up. "No."

"Well you don't expect him to admit it."

"You're vile."

England snorted. "Don't be daft. Tea comes from leaves you foppish twit."

"Leaves?" America cocked a brow at him. "What kind of leaves? Cause, you know I already have enough problems getting this one off pot." He jabbed a thumb at Canada, who scoffed. "Hey."

"I don't need a row with you on this. We have enough to fight over."

You could almost see the smoke spewing from England's ears, but he managed to keep his voice calm. "Are you trying to make me angry?"

"Always." America smiled brightly and stood. He gave England a quick peck on the cheek, only to get swatted away, and started around towards the small boat.

"Where are you heading?" England called after him.

America turned till he was walking backward. "To get some water. I'm feeling a might peckish." He had just turned around when England bellowed. "AND STOP TALKING LIKE THAT!"

"I can't." He spun around again. "I've got momentum going now. I'm afraid I could be stuck with it for a while."

The other three nations laughed lightly, but England was still fuming. "I swear, one of these days, that boy's going to drive me absolutely bonkers."

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist." Canada chimed, patting England on the shoulder, and started after America.

England had to take a deep breath to keep from shouting at him too. France laughed harder, climbing up into the passenger seat again, as England called. "What did I say about turning into him?" He groaned, heading for the ATV, but stopped when he felt something squish under his shoe. "Blimey. What did I just step in?"

"Do you have to always follow me?" America asked, filling a canteen from one of the water jugs.

"I don't have to." Canada smirked, leaning against the boat. "I just like to."

"Well, what if I don't want you to?"

Canada shrugged, his smile spreading. "That's too bad."

America rolled his eyes, taking a swig of water. "Stubborn ass."

"You're just mad that you're not the one bugging me, for once."

America laughed lightly, leaning next to him. "You are such a brat. Why do I put up with you?"

"Because I'm awesome." He held a hand out and America passed the canteen.

America laughed again, shaking his head. "Yea, I'll bet."

Canada stared down at the canteen, swishing the contents inside. "Are you really ok?"

"Yea, why?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Pssht." America waved a dismissive hand at him. "I'm fine, bro."

"You say that now."

"I told you, I just got a bit car sick."

"You still look tired."

"I'm fine."

"We shouldn't take that chance." Canada stepped up next to him. "I'd feel a lot better if you rode in the truck."

America groaned, eyes rolling towards the sky. "Mattie, come on."

"Alfred." Canada snapped. "Stop being so stubborn, and think for a minute! You seem fine now, but you're symptoms are also very sudden, and we don't even know what's wrong with you."

"I told you Matt, I'm fine."

"No. You're not!" He pushed off the the boat, stamping his foot. "We don't know what's going on. You're weaker, and you keep getting sick. You could even be infected for all we know!" He choked on the words, his eyes burning.

"Whoa, hold on now." America bolted up as well, his eyes widening on his brother in shock. To say the least, he finally dropped the accent. Canada's breathing was kicked up, tears welling up under his eyes. America glanced over at the other three, to see they either weren't paying them any mind, or deliberately trying not to look. "Come on." Grasping Canada's hand, he dragged him off and around the other side of the truck. When he was sure they were out of earshot, America rounded on him, though he still kept his voice low. "What are you talking about? Why would you say that?"

"I don't know, Al. It's just-" He paused, trying to figure out what to say. "It's just like what happened with Alaska. She started to just get sick, and then she-"

"No. No. Shh. Don't do that." He pulled Canada tightly into his arms, laying his head against his shoulder. "Don't even start to think like that. That's not what this is."

Canada pushed back. "Then what is it, Alfred? What else could it be?"

"Matthew, listen to me." America squeezed Canada's shoulders, shaking him a bit. "There was sickness before this zombie thing. It could be anything else. I mean, think about it. How could I have gotten infected? I wasn't bitten or scratched, and I certainly haven't bitten them."

"I don't know, Al. I don't know." He buried his face in America's chest and cried. "I don't know what to make of anything anymore. I'm just scared."

America held him tight, still keeping an eye on the surroundings. "It's ok, Mattie. I'm scared too."

"Please, Alfred. Just don't strain yourself. You need to rest."

America sighed, inciting Canada to look up at him pleadingly. "Alfred, please."

"Ok. Fine." America relented, brushing hair from his brother's eyes. "I'll ride in the truck."

Canada's face lit up. "You will? Really?"

America scoffed, rolling his eyes. "No, Mattie, I'm lying. I'm really gonna sneak off and steal the ATV, or somethin."

"There's no need to be sarcastic, you jerk." He punched him in the shoulder. "I'm confused and upset, but I can still beat you."

"Yea, ok." America laughed. "Whatever you say, Bro."

"Is everything ok?" They spun around to see France rounding the side of the truck.

"Yea." America responded, casting a quick glance to Canada. Mainly to make sure he wasn't making a face to say otherwise. "Just discussing stuff. Why? Are you guys ok?"

"We are fine. Matthieu sounded upset, so I was concerned. Thinking maybe you saw something."

"No, Francis. We're ok." Canada answered, brushing his eyes. "Alfred's gonna ride in the truck. Do you think you can help out Ivan?"

France turned a bit red. "Me... alone with Ivan? Are you certain this is a good idea?"

"Well, we can't fit four people in the truck."

"Yea, come on, Frankie." America grinned, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by him. "B-dawg ain't that bad, and we can't leave him alone, can we?" He leaned around the back of the truck. "Yo, Ivan!"

Russia and England both turned to look back at him.

"I'm hitchin a ride with Mattie. Think you'd be cool with Francis ridin with you?"

Even from the truck they could see Russia's face scrunch up into a smile. "Of course. I'd be happy to share a vehicle with Francis. Would he prefer to drive or shoot?"

America turned towards Francis, pulling a sarcastic inquiry face at him.

France relented with a groan. "I suppose I'll drive. As long as I don't get shot."

America tched him, rolling his eyes. "He says he'll drive, dude." He rounded towards them, and Russia's smile widened. "I'm glad to hear he wants to ride with me."

America planted his fists on his hips. "Just so you don't shoot him."

Russia's eyes opened, the smile warming. "Don't be silly. Why would I shoot my comrade?"

"You wouldn't." America laughed.

England backed away slowly, not sure what to make of these two anymore.

France sighed, heading for the truck. "Might as well get my gun anyway."

"Thank you, Francis."

France looked up at Canada, and smiled. "Think you'll be ok, looking after those two?"

Canada returned the smile. "I've been looking after them for years. I think I can handle it for a little longer."

xXx

Finally, they all started to load into their designated vehicles.

"No. I get the window. You get in the middle." America tried to direct England, but he wasn't going for it.

"Why should I have to get in the middle?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" He stood up tall over him. "We need someone at the door, who can take care of anything that might come our way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you are missing an arm. You're certainly not healed, or even the most alert."

"Oh, like you're one to talk."

"What?"

"You're practically dead on your feet." England growled, matching America's glare. "You look as though you could collapse again, at any moment."

"I'm a lot better off than you are, old man."

"What was that, you stubborn arse colony."

"What the hell did you call me!?"

Russia was already back in the ATV, and face-palmed. France and Canada just stared at them in annoyance. Finally, France dropped a hand on Canada's shoulder. "Bonne chance, mon ami."

Canada sighed. "I can handle them. Just go ahead and get ready." France started off, and Canada marched towards the bickering nations, a scowl set onto his face. "Shut it! Both of you!"

They both fell silent, turning towards him.

"Arthur. Get in. You're riding in the middle."

"What?" England scoffed. "Of course. You always take his side."

"Yes." Canada advanced on them, his glare deepening. "I'm taking his side, because he's right. He and I are the most alert, and fit, so we need to be at the doors, in case something happens. Now, stop you're bickering and get in the damn truck." He spun off and heading towards the truck himself.

Both England and America watching him wide eyes. "Since when does Matthew swear like that?" England asked, inclining his head towards him.

America huffed, hitched the rifle on his shoulder and started off after Canada. "Just be glad he hasn't gone full hockey rage."

Canada climbed into the driver's seat, and took a breath to try and calm himself down. When America crossed near his path, he reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. "Al. I get why you like to keep him arguing, but could you lay off until we get to Japan? We don't need your yelling attracting any dead."

America studied Canada's expression, and nodded, answering quietly. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yea, Mattie. I'll try. I'm sorry." He knew Canada might be suspicious with him complying so easily, but he was already worried enough about him. It was best to try and not make it worse.

England settled into the middle, pouting, soon followed by America who closed the door and sighed.

"You ok?"

"Fine." America growled, turning his attention out the window.

Canada gave the two of them a long hard look, then finally shut his own door. His eyes scanned the road ahead, and watched as France and Russia started on ahead. "Am I going to have a problem with you two being this close?"

"No." They both answered in monotone, as though they were scorned children.

Canada couldn't help but smirk, as he started the truck. "Good to know."

xXx

After many long hours of growing tension, they finally arrived at the shore. "Oh no." Canada sighed, easing the truck slowly up towards the docks. There was a small rural town along the shore, and some of the people were out and about in the non traditional sense.

"Of course they are." America secured his larger gun into the holster on his back, double checking the ammo in his hand guns, and the metal bat secured to his hip.

Canada cast a quick glimpse towards him. "You up for this?"

"No problem on my end. And you?"

Canada reached back for the hockey stick he had stored in the back, scanning his mind for a way to reach the crossbow. "If need be." He watched as Russia shot some of them down. France must have had a hold of his own weapon, driving considerably faster than they were. "We have to hurry to the shore."

"Obviously. The only real question is, who's gonna look after Iggy?"

"Excuse me." England scoffed. "I can look after my-"

"Shut up." Both cut him off. Neither feeling up to discussing this. Mainly because Canada had told him to, England bit his lip, and let it drop. This is exactly why he didn't want them to cut off his arm. He didn't want any of them having to guard him because he wasn't fit to fight. Although, he supposed his opinion didn't matter on the subject.

"There's not too many now, but if Ivan keeps shooting, there's going to be more." America rolled down his window, ready to shoot any. "Perhaps you should speed up."

"With you ready to jump out? I don't think so." Canada stated offhandedly, still scanning the area. "I'd rather take it slow than have you break something by jumping from a moving vehicle."

America smirked. They really had been hanging out too long. Apparently Canada knew what he might do before he even thought he would. "I'd say I won't, but I don't even know."

"Exactly."

"I'm just worried about Francis and Ivan."

"Me too. They're practically out in the open."

America nailed one in the head that was running for Francis. "Catch up. I can't get them from here."

"You better be sure." Canada growled, pushing down more on the gas pedal.

"I'd prefer to not leave you two."

"We don't need you to-"

"Not now, Iggy."

"Ok, fine." Canada sighed, laying down more on the pedal, and sped towards the zombies. "Just don't prove me wrong, for trusting you."

"Have I ever?"

Canada smirked. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

America's brow furrowed, and he paused his shooting, casting a glance towards his brother. "Do I?"

Canada's attention divided into controlling his steering. "I'd like to think it's not intentional."

"You are rather impulsive."

America was very tempted to tell England off again, but he had promised Canada he'd avoid starting fights. Plus, he was actually right. "I assure you, it's not." America tried to cut down more, and was very tempted to jump out. "On a side note, it's very difficult to aim in here."

"Almost there. Just hold on." He sped forward, past France and Russia, and mowed over all in his path. Although, unlike his brother, (And other certain individuals.) Canada didn't have as much fun plowing over the undead. The way it rocked the cab made him nervous. There was also the memory of a live zombie once lodging itself in the undercarriage, and jumping out at them. It just didn't seem logical, or effective enough to risk it. Maybe if they didn't have to get out, but the added weight of the boat did make the titling a tad more precarious. So even that wasn't a good option. He turned the wheel to keep from going into the water, and the boat almost tilted from it's hinges. Canada had to twist back to level it out, and stopped.

"Whoa, Mattie. Careful." America heaved, his adrenaline still pumping in his chest. Arm having gone out in an instinctual soccer mom save over England.

Canada breathed in deep too, his hands still gripping the wheel. He turned slowly to look at his brother. "What good is it to tell me to be careful afterward?"

America shrugged. "If I said it beforehand it'd be nagging. Then I'd just be Iggy."

"Watch it, boy."

"Alfred." Canada groaned in aggravation, rolling his eyes and started to slowly turn the wheel to bring the boat about.

"Sorry, Bro. It couldn't be helped."

"Well, try harder."

Up along the left side, the ATV came screaming (quite literally) past them and plowed straight into the water. France and Russia swam from the front, and around to try an unhook the boat. Unfortunately for them, the water didn't seem to stop any undead interference. Granted they couldn't swim too well, but that didn't stop them from trying.

"Sorry, Mattie. Looks like I did lie."

"What?" Canada looked over in time to see America open the door and jump out. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" He shrieked, reaching for him, but missed. "Get back in here."

"I'm just gonna help. Roll up the window and get the boat ready to go in." With that he ran off towards the ATV, knocking off any in his way, with the aluminum bat. Trying to save any ammo for when he got into the water.

"Alfred! Be careful!" England called out after him.

America couldn't help but smirk. He totally called it.

Canada, on the other hand, was less amused. He quickly shifted the gears, cursing his pain-in-the-ass-brother under his breath. "Oh, he is going to get it."

America splashed loudly in the water, calling out to draw their attention, and shot any of them that wouldn't follow. France helped with zombie maintenance while Russia worked on unhooking the boat. The hitch had fallen under the water making it far more difficult to get a good grip and unhinge it. It took some work, but he finally got it and called to France to get in. America tried to get out to deeper waters, to try and get out of plausible range, but the waves were hindering his retreat. If anything it was pushing him back. Closer to shore. He was soon surrounded and dragged under.

"Merde!" France cried, trying to get aim on something in the water, but couldn't see any signs except for bubbles and evident struggle under the surface. "I can't get a clear shot."

Russia revved the boat and headed for the area, where he went down, and started swinging the butt of his gun in the rippling water. France started shooting at anything that popped up, and was clearly dead, to try and draw their attention.

Evidently panicked as well, Canada laid on the horn of the truck.

"I hope Jones can hold his breath for long time." Russia commented, shooting one that tried to climb into the boat.

However, what they failed to realize is that America had managed to kick off from the undead cluster and swam as far as he could away from them, under the water. He sprang up through the surface, slinging his hair. Eyes burning from the salty water, he tried to focus in on where the boat was, and waved them over. "Hey! Over here, guys."

France's head was the first to snap around to him. "Oh, Dieu merci." He gasped. "There he is."

Russia sighed in relief, swinging the boat around to retrieve him. They pulled America into the boat, instantly checking him over for any wounds.

"Chill out, guys. I'm alright." He tilted his head to knock water out of his ear. "A bit waterlogged I guess."

France forcefully grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Don't do that! Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"Um... no. Why would I want to do that?"

"Mon Dieu." France sighed from exhaustion, falling back into the seat, as though it were a fainting couch.

"We could just run the ATV into the water, if we have to." Russia threw back at his American friend. "It'll be easy."

America laughed, still trying to catch his breath. "It worked, didn't it?" Not surprisingly both of them smacked him on the back of the head. "What? It made sense on paper."

"Shut up."

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Canada finished positioning the truck, and started backing the boat into the water. His annoyance was definitely evident in his driving. Upon exiting the truck, Canada instantly started bashing heads, with his hockey stick. England climbed out of the drivers side, after him. As Canada was helping England into the boat, America started to jump back into the water to assist them. However, Russia grabbed his shoulder and threw him back into the seat. "You stay here."

"But."

"Shut up." He jumped in instead and swam over.

America started off again, but France wasn't about to let him. Instead, he resolved to sit there and pout. That is until he heard England scream. He and France both bolted up and stared back at the shore. Canada was quickly being surrounded, and Russia hadn't yet gotten there. They were even starting to climb up into the boat. England grabbed what could only be described as a small crowbar, and bashed it over the head until it fell off. He backed up a few steps, only to have another grab him from behind, and bend him backward over the side of the boat. It's teeth heading straight for his throat. France nailed it in the head.

With France covering England, America set his sights to watching Canada, and taking out any that threatened to eat his little brother. Which, as it turns out, was all of them. Which was good. He didn't like to discriminate.

With it being dry and out in the open, Russia had no problem unhitching the boat, and jumped in. "Matvey! Hurry!"

Canada swung his stick to clear the area, backing up towards the boat, but he couldn't divert himself enough to climb in. He managed to block one of them on the edge of the stick. The gnashing head snapped away from the force of America's bullet.

America shot down a few more, trying to clear out the area. "Come on, Mattie. I got you covered. Get in the boat."

Canada waded in the water. Between the waves and America he was able to grab Russia's hand and climb up into the boat. England tended to Canada while Russia revved up the engine and headed towards the other boat.

"Alfred! Get in this boat, now!" England yelled as they pulled up next to it.

"What? No. I'm good over here, dude." France and Russia were already mad at him. There was no way he was getting in a boat with Canada and England. They were gonna lecture him so hard. He didn't think he could take that right now.

"Get over here. We agreed that boat was only going to hold one, and you lost all driving privileges. Now get your arse over here. Now!"

"Ok, ok, dude." America held up his hands in defeat, starting to climb over. "Don't have a cow. I'm coming." It was definitely an interesting experience trying to cross between two bobbing boats. He slipped a couple times, but made it over. However, he instantly figured he'd rather take on the mob back on shore. England shoved him down into one of the seats, waving a finger in his face. "You are not to move from that spot, do you understand me?"

America sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes.

"I said, do you understand me!?"

"Yea, yea, fine. I got it, man." America huffed, folding his arms as England made a point to get as far away from him, before he strangled the frustrating nation. "Like I can go anywhere from a boat." America mumbled under his breath.

Canada glanced up at him, trying to decide how much he shared in England's rage.

"Do we have everything?" France called over.

"We better have." Russia responded, casting his eyes back to see one vehicle submerged and the other completely coated with zombies. Some of them still even thought they could swim out to them. "There's no way we're going to get any of it now."

"Let's get out of here, then."

France and Russia kicked up the engines and sped off.

As they bounded over the waves, America sat back, waiting for the Canadian bomb to go off. His foot bounced, growing in nerves the longer the silence rolled on. Every time he looked over at Canada, he was just sitting there. Quietly staring at hi hands. Finally, America leaned forward, folding his hands. "Ok, Mattie. Let me have it."

He didn't say anything.

America leaned in closer. "Come on, now. I know your mad at me. Just get it over with."

Canada's head drooped more.

"What? You're not gonna lecture me?"

He just shook his head slowly.

America scooted in next to him, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "Come on, Mattie. Say something."

"Alfred." Canada lifted his head, flexing his fingers. "There's nothing I can say to you that you haven't already heard a hundred times already. You're always going to endanger yourself to help people. It's just who you are, and nothing I say or do is going to change that." It was startling how calm his voice was. Considering the tension coming from England, he at least expected Canada's voice to be shaking. "All I have left is one last request." He finally looked up at him, his expression surprisingly steady. "Just don't die. I don't think I can handle that."

What anxiety America was feeling melted into guilt. He threw an arm around Canada's shoulder, pulling him closer. "You know... I think I'd prefer a lecture."

Canada settled in, gripping his arm. "Too bad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Ooh hoohoo so looking forward to when Canada finally snaps. I'd apologize for dropping a spoiler, but let's face it, that one's inevitable, and also the least of your worries. Also, I've been kind of sick lately, and my brain has gone to mush, so I hope this didn't suck as much as I think it did, cuz I wanna keep going, and stuff, and WOO PAIN PILLS!
> 
> oh yea, there's french in here ain't there... um... mon fils means my son... bonne chance means good luck, and I don't remember the rest. (Also, if you don't know what Angleterre is then you haven't read enough Hetalia fanfiction.) Maybe I'll double check when my brain is in functioning again. toodles.


	28. Chapter 28

"Bruder... Bruder?" Prussia called, fidgeting in his seat awkwardly. "Bruuuuuuuuudeeeeeeer." His calling pitched into more of a whine until Germany finally growled, slamming his hands down onto the table. "What is it?"

"Ich muss auf die Toilette gehen." Prussia whined, his bottom lip peeking out in a small pout.

Germany deflated. "Do you really, or are you just looking to be untied?"

Prussia's knee began to bounce. "Would you hold it against me if I said both?"

The little yellow Gilbird, looked up, from where he had nested into into his master's hair. He chirped, not sure if he was upset with being jarred, or enjoying the massage it brought on.

Still sitting in the driver's seat, Lithuania tried his best not to laugh. It wasn't very safe to test Germany's patience. Prussia, however, seemed to be the only one not affected by this fear. Why? Because he's Prussia, and does not see a plausible reason to comply fully to his little brother when he could just torment him. There was however, one thing strange about this hypothesis. "Um, Mr. Prussia." Lithuania asked quietly. "Were you not saying earlier that you could untie yourself?"

Prussia smirked, responding in a quick whisper. "Ja, but I want to make him think he has some semblance of control. LUUUUTZ!" He whined louder, starting to bounce again. Course that just agitated his wound, so it dulled down quickly. "Bitte, Bruder."

Lithuania rolled the events, as well as past experience with the white haired nation around in his head. A gentle smile touched his lips. Perhaps Prussia was harder to predict than he thought.

After a short while of contemplation, Germany figured Prussia might have learned his lesson and decided to untie him. "Hurryhurryhurryhurryhurry." Prussia chanted, the bouncing knee starting to affect the rest of his body. By this point Gilbird decided he was annoyed, and flew off, perching instead on Germany's shoulder.

Apparently Prussia didn't think it was fast enough. When he was down to just one arm, he wrenched it free, and bolted towards the back, sliding into the small bathroom, with an unnecessarily emphasized, "Ahhh."

Italy and Sicily couldn't help but laugh. Germany groaned, slumping into the passenger seat. His attention was drawn to the sound of very faint laughter, and glanced over at Lithuania. His eyes were still glued to the road, but his attention was very possibly on Prussia as well. The annoyed pressure that had been closing in on Germany's chest lifted. "I'm glad to see you're starting to feel better." He commented lightly. Lithuania's smile faded, possibly not realizing he had been smiling.

"Well, I suppose, 'better' is a relative term." The knowledge of why he was upset made him sigh. If nothing else he needed to keep focused to try and find their way back to their destination. "I miss my brothers, but I know they wouldn't want me to dwindle on their deaths." His voice slipped out of control towards the end, but he cleared his throat, to try and get it back. "At least I know I wouldn't want that for them." His bottom lip started to tremble, and he dug his teeth in to stop it. The resistance against his tears waning. "It's not easy."

Germany's eyes fell onto the road. "I can only imagine." Apparently Gilbird had adopted some of those big brother tendencies from his master, because he nuzzled into his cheek, chirping softly. Germany glanced to the little bird, and scratched his soft feathers. Gilbird cooed happily, closing his eyes. "You seem to be handling it very well, though. It's hard to say if I could do the same."

There were more sounds of relief escaping from the back. Both of their expressions twisted into something that seemed to say, 'why do I find this funny?' Lithuania chuckled softly. "Yes. I suppose Mr. Prussia would be a hefty loss." He flashed a quick smile towards Germany. "If nothing else, he seems to have an uncanny ability to brighten even a dark situation. (Just like Mr. America.)"

Germay laughed as well. "Then, I suppose, we'll keep him around. As long as he is useful."

"Don't laugh at that." They heard Romano growl. "It's disgusting."

"I can't help what I find funny."

Romano sneered, folding his arms. "I worry that you're amused by such things anyway."

Italy's face instantly deflated to make way for it to slip into a pout. "Romano, don't make that face. Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad. I'm just disgusted. There's a difference."

Italy whimpered, slipping his arms around his neck, head settling on his shoulder. "Just stop making that face."

"Get off me." Romano growled, trying to wrench him off. "What have I told you about this hugging thing? I'm sick of you clinging to me all the time."

Italy still didn't want to release his brother's arm, but given that he seemed so insistent he had no choice but to let go, to keep him from getting more annoyed with him. "I-I'm sorry." He knew Romano never liked for anyone to crowd him, but he didn't seem to be minding. Italy thought, maybe, this situation would get him over that. Why now was he being so objective? Romano must have known that he was upset, because his own expression fell, but he wasn't about to take it back. That would just make him look stupid.

Prussia came by and smacked Romano upside the head. "Be nice."

Romano's hand snapped to the spot he hit, and growled. "Did you wash your hands?"

Prussia smirked a brow at him. "Of course I did. What do you think I am, Italian?"

"What did you just say?" Romano sneered, his hair actually twitching in aggravation. Italy reached out and grabbed Romano's arm again. "Don't get upset, Romano. He's not serious."

"Ja, Brother Dearest. I'm just picking on you. It's what I do." Prussia smirked, with a wink. "Don't have a cow."

Romano's brain did a cruel trick on him, connecting cow to bull... and on from there. There was a pressure behind his eyes, but he fought it. Not wanting to cry in front of them any more. He wasn't as pathetic as his brother.

"Romano?" Italy began softly.

There must have been evidence of the memories on his face, because the smile instantly slid from Prussia's. "Hey, Romano." His voice lost the mocking tone, dropping on one knee in front of him. "What's with that face? It makes me sad?"

"What?" Romano's cheeks flushed, face scrunching in disgust. "Why the hell would my face make you sad?"

There was an obvious joke here, which he passed up vocalizing to keep from making matters worse, but the amusement of it still caused a very wide grin to spread across his face. "Because I'm starting to like you." He plopped a hand on his head, ruffling the agitated nation's hair. "You're still a pain in the ass, but you're cute."

"Stop that!" Romano growled, smacking his hand off. His face darkened redder, straightening his hair. "Why do you enjoy pissing me off?"

"Cause you're so cute when you're angry." Prussia gave him a snide smirk, waving a scorning finger in his face. "Now be nice to your brother. Capisce?"

Even though it was a commonly used term in some other countries, Romano couldn't help but feel like Prussia was mocking him again by using his own language against him. Or maybe it was the fact that he called him cute twice in one sitting. "Don't think you can start telling me what to do." Romano growled through his teeth, fists clenching in his lap.

"Oh no. I'd never tell you what to do." Prussia held a hand to his chest, his expression seeming legitimately sincere. "It's just some friendly advice. One big brother to another." He settled onto the seat next to him, slipping an arm around his shoulder, and drew him closer. "It'd be a shame if you were to say something you may later regret."

Romano's brow creased, his eyes widened, the pressure pushing against them again. This time, lining the edges with tears. "What?"

Prussia's eyes narrowed, an intensity in his gaze that he hadn't seen since they were in the woods. "Do you understand?"

Romano felt his jaw threaten to quiver, and his teeth clenched to stop it from doing so. His eyes shifted back towards Italy, feeling a cold pressure settling around his heart.

Italy held a hand to a small pain in his chest. He couldn't quite hear what was being said, but Romano seemed to be getting increasingly nervous. On top of that, Italy could hardly remember seeing Prussia with such a serious expression. That alone was enough to make him feel uneasy. Italy laid a hand against Romano's arm. The touch must have startled him. He jumped, making Italy snatch his hand away. They stared at each other, both unsure if they should speak.

Prussia looked between both of them and smiled. He squeezed Romano's shoulder, pulling him tighter in to him to whisper in his ear. "Just be nice, and give your brother a hug." With a final squeeze, he nudged him forward, and started to get up. The effort twinged his wound, but all it really did was make it difficult to stand. Once he was up, though, no problem.

Italy watched Prussia head up towards the front. He turned around and winked at him, leaning against the passenger's seat. "It might be a good idea for you to start being a little nicer to your sister too." The white haired nation added, motioning to the small girl crouching behind Italy. He shrugged. "Just because."

Both Italies turned towards Sicily. Since the initial denial of her being in with them, she seemed to be trying her hardest to give them space. Sure she would snuggle up with them, when they fell asleep, but other than that Sicily had almost become a shadow, and they sometimes forgot she was there. Which probably wasn't a good habit for her to get into. They all saw what happened last time one of their party faded into the background. She sat alerted with attention being brought to her. Her big brown eyes glittered up at them expectantly.

Not surprisingly, Italy's eyes flooded with tears and he held his arms out to her first. Her eyes instantly overflowed as well, throwing herself onto his lap, and her arms tightened around him. "Feliciano." Italy's hand fell onto her head. His fingers twined in her hair, pressing his lips next to his fingers. "I'm so sorry, Ciccina." He sniffed, tears slipping into her hair. "We've been so unfair to you."

"It's ok, Big Brother." Sicily sobbed, clutching Italy's shirt tightly in her fist. "I just don't want you to be mad at me."

"No." Italy whined, clutching tighter to her. "I'm not mad at you. I've just been-" His voice trailed off, unsure of how to actually finish this sentiment. Selfish? His sights only set upon making sure Romano was safe, that he completely overlooked that she was even there. Sure they weren't directly related, or even been all that close lately, but that was no excuse for how he had ignored her. She should be just as important to him as Romano. They were family. "I'm sorry."

Romano watched the two of them, finding he was feeling nervous again. He hated to say it, but he knew he recognized the feeling as jealousy. It was a similar sensation to what he felt when seeing his brother with Germany. The thought of Italy liking someone more than him would leave an intense sickness in the pit of his stomach. Which could possibly be why he didn't like sharing. Italy was his brother, and no one else was allowed to have him.

"Romano." Prussia sang, drawing his attention. When he looked at him, the older nation pointed back towards the other two. He had veered off into his own mind, and failed to realize Sicily was staring at him. Her bright eyes glowing with tears. "Lovino?" She chirped softly, holding a hand out to him.

Romano stared at her, not really sure what the gesture was supposed to mean. Granted she had spent most of her time, growing up with him... and Spain. More so than with his brother, but he never felt truly close to his little sister. If anything she should be bonding more with the Greek nation still pouting in the back. It was strange to see her and Italy bonding so easily. Guess his brother was the type to trust quickly, but it still made him uneasy. Sometimes he could be too trusting. Not that Sicily was going to do anything bad, but she wasn't the only one out there. It was definitely one of his more annoying personality quirks.

Something touched his hand, startling him out of his musings, once again. Maybe he needed to stop doing that. He glanced down to see Sicily used his silence to take the initiative. She had slipped her hand into his, and was smiling up at him. "It's ok, Big Brother. I can protect you."

Romano felt his chest tighten. Face twisting in a sneer. What a ridiculous thing for her to say. Spain and Prussia had both promised the same, and we all saw how that turned out. She was just a little girl. Sure Sicily had spunk, but that wasn't going to be worth anything against these monsters. Could she really have the ability to back up this claim?

"Romano?" Italy laid a hand against his arm. "We'll be alright. Kiku has a safe house for us to hide out in. We'll be there in no time." He smiled softly, squeezing his arm. "Then we'll be safe."

Romano's jaw started quivering.

Italy's smile faded, sliding closer. "Romano, no." He whined. "It's ok. We're going to be alright."

No. "Veni... ciano." Don't say that. It's not fair to him or any of them to make empty promises, like that. Romano's head fell onto Italy's shoulder. A few seconds later he had started crying, and both his siblings drew him into their arms. They might have spoken to him, but he wasn't listening. It was probably more idiotic words of encouragement, anyway. What the hell was wrong with everyone? Why were they all so stupid? Couldn't they understand that there was no way they were going to survive?

The three of them curled up into each other, all with tears in their eyes now. Italy pressed his lips into the top of Romano's head. "I know it's hard, Romano, but we can't give up hope. We have to keep believing that everything will be ok, or we'll never make it through this." He paused to dry his eyes, fingers tracing through his brother's hair again. "We're never going to leave your side again. Ciccina's right. We'll do everything we can to protect you."

Romano was very tempted to tell him to shut the hell up. To stop saying such idiotic things, but a quick glance back to the snide Germanic nation told him he'd just be tormented more if he did. Then again, nothing he could say would ever be able to stop his dear brother from speaking idiocy. It was almost as if it were his native tongue. So, what the hell. He might as well give in. Romano relaxed fully into their embrace, burying his face in Italy's shoulder. Sicily slipped more into his lap, sliding her arms around him. "Ti amo, Lovino."

Romano grimaced at the display of affection. Again, this was his stupid brother's department, not his. Although, at the very least, he should be able to manage this. With a very deep sigh, Romano drew the small nation into his arms. "I love you too, Ciccina."

"Yay!" Italy exclaimed, throwing his arms around both of them. "That's more like it. Together we can survive anything."

Prussia snorted, whispering to the little bird, once again perched on his shoulder. "Ja. They can teach her the true art of running away."

"Which would probably be a useful skill, in this situation." Germany commented. Obviously the statement hadn't been only selective to Gilbird.

Prussia's jaw quirked in thought, then he nodded. "True enough. Although, it would be good for all of us if we could take a break from running." He added, with a heavy sigh. "Hey, Toris. Any idea how much further till..." His entire demeanor instantly drooped. "Oi. You ok?"

Lithuania became suddenly nervous that they'd both turned their attention towards him. His jaw was sore from where he was clenching it. Trying to keep from making any noise. His eyes were burning; not wanting to allow himself to cry. He was driving. He needed to keep his vision clear. But now that they had noticed his tension, it would be difficult to stop.

Germany and Prussia exchanged a quick uncertain glance. "Toris?" Prussia settled down next to him, having difficulties between the wound and the swaying of the vehicle. "Why don't you let someone else drive for a while? You know, I haven't had a chance yet."

Lithuania blinked out his tears, and sighed, shaking his head. "It's fine." He choked on his voice, having to clear his throat. "I can keep going."

Germany slid to the edge of his chair, leaning closer. Fingers lacing together. "We've been trapped in this RV for a while, now. It might be good for us all to take a break."

"We um." He brought a hand up to brush his face. It was really no use trying to hide it now, so why bother. "We need to stop soon to refuel. I can make it till then."

"Are you sure?" Prussia swayed a bit, where he was perched on his feet. It hurt to try and stay still, and he cringed. He laid a hand on Lithuania's arm. "It's ok if you need to-"

"I'm fine. I can handle it."

Prussia might have been about to say something else, but Germany clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. Prussia glanced back to see Germany's eyes narrowed on him. He nodded, and stood. "Alright. Whatever you say, Toris. It's fine. Just let us know if you change your mind." Lithuania nodded, and Germany squeezed Prussia's shoulder, leaning down to him. "Let's leave him alone for now. We can check on how Elizaveta's doing."

He didn't really like it, but sometimes it was actually good to leave certain people to their own devices. "Ja. Sure." With great effort, Prussia pushed himself to his feet, and started to walk away, but a sudden wave of unease came over him. Perhaps he stood too fast, or possibly tweaked the wound in a bad way, because he suddenly felt very dizzy. The edges of his vision blackening. Prussia slumped onto the couch, with a heavy sigh, a hand coming up to his head. Germany doubled back, sitting down next to him. "Gilbert? Are you ok?"

Once he was seated, Prussia's vision started to clear, but his face felt hot. He smirked, hating himself for making Germany worry again. "I'm alright. I'm just a little tired. It's been a trying day, after all." Prussia waved a dismissive hand at him. "Don't give me that look. Just go check on Lizzy. I think she's hiding in the back with Greece and Seychelles."

Germany eyed his brother suspiciously. "If you... insist." He stood, only taking a few steps away before turning back again. "You'd tell me if something was wrong? Wouldn't you?"

"What? Of course I would. Would I ever hide anything from you?" Prussia answered. Seemingly abashed by this accusation.

Germany felt he shouldn't dignify that inquiry with a honest answer. Instead, he slowly made his way towards the back.

"I don't think it will be much longer."

"I certainly hope not." Over the sound of the engine he hadn't heard Greece and Hungary, in the back. He pulled the curtain aside and stepped in to see Greece was still curled up in one the beds but had turned around to face out. Although, once Germany entered, he pulled the sheets in tighter to his face, and clammed up.

It seemed as if someone had at least changed the bloody sheets, and Seychelles was resting in the bed across from Greece. She was sleeping, or at least trying to. It appeared more like she had lost consciousness. Moaning softly, her skin tinted with a faint blue overtone. Hungary was sitting on the bed, keeping a wet rag on her forehead.

Germany could feel his chest tighten. Not another one. This couldn't happen again. "What's wrong with her?"

Hungary shook her head, not wanting to take her eyes from the small girl. "It's her stomach wound. Sicily said they had managed to fix it, but we don't have the resources here to keep up the treatments."

Germany's thumbs ran nervously along his fingers. "Is she infected."

Hungary shook her head again. "Not in a related sense. The wounds developed a bad infection for itself."

Germany relaxed a touch, inching closer. "I suppose that's as bright a side as we're getting." He settled onto the bed too, making Seychelles whimper from agitating her. "I'm sorry sweetie. I just want to see." Germany pulled back the sheets, sliding up the clean shirt they had found in the camper, to replace her bloodstained dress. They had tried to keep up with dressing her wound, but as Hungary said, they didn't have the resources, or antibiotics to kill any infection she could have accumulated. The wound was still stitched up, but was surrounded by a deep red halo. The skin around the thread was buckling up again, and blackening. Some areas even turning a slight green. Parts of her skin was bubbling up. Possibly retaining puss beneath the recently closed skin. Germany gently touched the wound, causing a sharp intake of breath. Whining again as she let it back out. Seychelles eyes fluttered weakly, glancing up at him. "That hurt."

"I'm sorry. How bad is it, if I'm not touching it?"

Seychelles eyes closed again. "If I don't move, I'm ok." She must have breathed too hard, because she whimpered again. "Maybe a little tired." Her eyes closed again, drifting back off to sleep. Germany and Hungary watched to make sure she was asleep before Hungary spoke again, softly. "I don't know how much longer she's going to last. She might not make it to Japan."

"Don't say that." Greece chimed shaking his head. "She has to make it." Greece's eyes narrowed into the blanket, drawing it in over his mouth.

Hungary sighed. There was the unsaid sentiment of just trying to be realistic, but that sentiment just didn't feel like it should be said. It didn't matter anyway. They both knew it.

As bleak as their situation was starting to look, Germany still felt he couldn't let go of what little hope they still had. If nothing else, but to keep their desperate spirits up. Well, that and his brother would probably chew him out for just giving up. As stubborn as he was, Prussia would probably keep trying to walk even after losing both legs. Germany pondered that for a second and felt a chill run up his spine. He didn't want to imagine how anyone could lose a leg in their situation.

"Well, we have to do something about her." Hungary chimed in. "We know what a bite from these things can do, but we have no idea about scratches."

Both Germany and Greece stared at her, then down at Seychelles. Greece finally pushed himself onto his elbow. "Why would a scratch do anything?"

"It's possible it can spread in a similar way to rabies."

Germany shook his head. "This isn't rabies, Liz."

"You're right, it's much worse." Her brows narrowed, leaving a dark shadow over her eyes. "We've already lost a significant portion of our group. Two of which actually turned." Her face turned away, as though shocked at her own words. "Turned into one of those... things." The quick snap in her voice died down. She was quiet for a breath, sounding as though something were caught in her throat as she spoke again. "Seychelles was always in some danger of infection, but now she's getting worse. And Gilbert, with his wound, could be right behind her." Her face dropped lower into the shadows of the dimly lit room. Germany's fingers gripped in contained anger at the indication of his brother's impending demise. "It's only a matter of time until we lose them too. If we don't acquire anything useful to treat their wounds... I'm afraid to think of what may happen."

Greece snorted. "Sounds to me like you already have."

Hungary drew in a deep breath, feeling as though she had no energy to be annoyed with him. "I just don't want to see either of them become one of those monsters." Her thoughts slipped into a whisper. "I can't stand to see that again."

Germany watched her for a short while, dropping a hand on her shoulder. "We won't let that happen. If either of them die, we know how to prevent it. Just as a precaution. Until then, we can't give up. We have to do everything we can for Seychelles. For as long as we can." Germany found a sad smile curling his lips. "As for Gilbert, you know as well as I do, he's not going to die so easily. He's been around far longer than he should have been, and nothing these monsters can do will ever stop him."

Hungary was silent a moment longer. Rolling the words around in her head. She sighed, and turned towards him, seeming as though she wanted to speak.

"I thought the same of Sadiq."

Both heads swiveled towards Greece, who was now sitting up against the wall. His arms folded around his knees, along with the blankets. Eyes turned down towards his toes. "He may have been a grand pain in the ass, but I never thought he could ever be taken down. As you said," His gaze flicked back up to Germany. "too stubborn to die." Greece introverted slightly, the bottom half of his face disappearing behind his arm. "I guess I was wrong. And if I was wrong about Sadiq... who's to say you're-"

A sudden screech, the cabin lurching, and Lithuania called back for everyone to hold on. Evidently something had blocked the way for the camper to drive through. Germany and Hungary both reached out to try and hold Seychelles onto the bed, but she still slid halfway off, nearly screaming in pain.

Germany had slid into the wall next to the doorway. He groaned, rubbing at a potential goose-egg on the back of his cranium.

"It's ok, honey." Hungary crooned.

"Owowow."

"It's ok. Come on, slowly." Hungary held Seychelles gently in her arms, trying to help her back onto the bed. "Almost there, Sweetie. You got it."

Greece was soon able to right himself enough to help her. Germany made his way to his feet, and headed towards the front, still rubbing his head. A vague whimper for 'Papa' trailing after him. "Is everyone alright?" He called, eying the cluster of nations in the front. The Italies and Sicily were crammed in the corner, possibly saved by the wall behind the driver's seat. It looked as though they had crushed Northern Italy, but the spunky nation didn't seem to mind. Prussia had flipped over the side of the couch he was on, and wound up in the short stairway leading to the door. Thankfully it hadn't opened.

"Gilbert?" Germany made his way over and grasped Prussia's arm to try and help him up.

"I'm fine." Prussia held out a hand to dismiss him. "It's fine. Go see what happened."

"Are you sure?"

"Ja. I'm alright. Just go on."

Germany might have protested, but there were more pressing matters. He made sure Prussia was at least able to move, and made his way towards the front.

"I'm sorry." Lithuania sighed to calm himself. "I couldn't see the road too well, and it came up out of nowhere."

"So, what the hell happened?" Romano growled.

"Romano, cram it!" Prussia growled back, slowly making his way towards the couch.

"Do not start again, with me."

"Both of you, stop." Germany interjected. He turned back towards Lithuania. "Is there something in the road?"

"You could say that." Lithuania took a breath, scanning the area. His heart was still trying to slow down. "There's no way to get through."

Prussia slumped onto the couch, holding a hand over the wound on his side. He made sure Germany wasn't looking and checked on it, silently cursing himself. Romano's scowl faltered, as his gaze landed on Prussia's hand. Was something wrong with it, again?

Germany's eyes skimmed the road ahead of them, somewhat bewildered. "That can not possibly be what I think it is?" He groaned, heading for the door. "Everyone, stay inside."

"Hold on, Lutz." Prussia reached out and grabbed his arm, when he passed by. "It's dark out there. You can't head out alone."

"I'm not going far." He pulled his arm out, grabbed a flashlight and continued outside, holding his gun ready.

Italy whimpered, but didn't get time to protest. Instead, he rushed to the front seat, watching his friend through the window. The lights of the vehicle weren't on, so as not to attract unwanted attention. It was very dark, and Italy couldn't even see Germany's own light, let alone make out what caused Lithuania to stop so suddenly. Italy's eyes narrowed against the darkness, cheeks tinting a pinkish hue from nervousness of not being able to see his friend. "Ludwig."

"He'll be fine, Veniciano." Romano tried to reassure him, but was unable to even believe it himself. Romano was probably more paranoid than his brother with the possibility of bad things happening to people.

Prussia certainly wasn't going to just let it go. He was about to get up, but knew Germany would be yelling at him later. "Liz." He hollered back, with a growl.

Soon, the back curtain swung open, allowing Hungary to come through. "What is it? I'm trying to deal with Seychelles."

"Lutz went outside. Go keep him alive for me."

Hungary glanced around the room. She rolled her eyes and grabbed Prussia's sword, heading outside.

xXx

"Ludwig." Hungary ran out to catch Germany, squinting to adjust to the darkness.

"I'm over here."

Off in the distance, she saw a shadow waving a light at her, a larger shadow behind him. Hungary ran to catch up, a weathered eye on the surroundings. "What did you find?"

The light turned to the path ahead of him, illuminating a large train stretched across the road. "Toris said he was driving and saw a large shadow. It was too dark to tell what it was, so I came out to see."

Hungary scanned the surroundings further. "And the zombies?"

"I didn't see any, but I'm still keeping an eye out."

"Let's just hope they don't see the light."

Germany looked around, slowly making his way towards the train. He ran the light along the side of the train. "It looks like it derailed a little ways back."

"So, what do we do?" Hungary stepped up back to back with him.

Germany rolled the situation around in his head. He let out a weary sigh, absently scratching his arm. "Let's just sleep on it. We can get a fresh start first thing in the morning."

A shuffling caught their attention. Germany whipped the light to see two zombies stumbling out of the tall grass. Hungary's eyes burned at them. She stepped up, easily lopping the first one's head off, and nailed the other straight through the forehead.

Germany stared at her for a breath, then touched a hand to her arm. "Let's head back in."

Hungary snorted and looked down at the still snapping head flopping on the ground. She brought a boot up, slammed her heel through its skull and started towards the camper.

Germany waited to follow a few steps behind, scratching at what felt like a dry patch on his arm. He had been absently messing with it, then realized the dry patch was flaking off under his nails. The flashlight turned to his hand to see there was some kind of brownish red flakes lodged under his nails. "What is this?"

"What's what?" The fire in Hungary's eyes flickered out.

Germany switched the flashlight into the other hand and shone it on the spot he had been scratching. His nose crinkled in confusion. There was a red print, in the rough shape of a hand, wrapped around his forearm. "Is that blood? How did I get blood on my arm?"

Hungary took a closer look. "It looks like a hand. Did someone grab you?"

Germany's brow knit together. Was there? Realization hit him and his face reddened. Although he wasn't sure if it was worry or anger. He shook his head slowly. "I really wish Gilbert would stop lying to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: BLARG Don't really like this chapter, (which is part of why it took me so long to publish) but whatever. And hey, I got to use the iconic phrase everyone gets to learn in new languages. "I need to use the restroom." Or, in this case. "I must go to the toilet." lol
> 
> Also, I just want to make a statement. Because I am so unhappy with a lot of my writing in this story, but I still like the story, I'm treating this as a 1st draft. So, if there's something I write in here, that doesn't make sense, or seems out of place of whatever, it's very possible I went back and edited something in the past. Or I dropped a thread. Either way, feel free to ask if something doesn't make sense, or maybe a suggestion for improvement. I welcome all. I'm also part way in Vicodin land, so I'ma gwonna stop rambling. Toodles.


	29. Chapter 29

Out in the middle of the ocean, Russia and his group were running into a new cluster of problems. The trip was taking a lot longer than they thought to reach their destination. The food they thought would make it to Japan was running low. Even with them rationing it to splitting up one can every other day, between the five of them. Water was also running low, and they started to fear there was no way the gas was going to last the whole way. Not to mention they hit a really bad storm a ways back that lasted for a couple days. It was a miracle they didn't tip over and were able to hold onto what little resources they had left.

xXx

Night had fallen and they were taking shifts on who got to sleep and who drove. They considered stopping, but voted against it for fear of drifting off course. (As well as wasting more gas with stopping and starting the engine.) The boat had plenty of lighting, and a compass to help them anyway. It was a good thing France thought to grab extra blankets, before they left. With the combination of the cool night air bouncing off the water, and spray from the waves it was unbearably cold. Canada woke up with an extra shaky bounce, from the waves. He looked up at Russia, who had taken over the driving for them again. (America was actually allowed to drive the smaller one. As long as he promised to let them know if he felt sick again.) Not really wanting to wake up, Canada crawled up towards Russia, dragging an extra blanket. "Why don't you get some sleep? I can take over."

"I'm alright. I can sleep tomorrow."

"You've been driving for hours. You have to be exhausted."

"I'm not."

Canada sighed. Sometimes Russia was more stubborn than his brother. "Well, at least put this on." He moved forward and slid the extra blanket over his shoulders. "It's freezing."

"I can handle cold." Russia glanced over at his young friend, and smiled. "Spasibo."

Canada pulled his own blanket tightly around his shoulders, settling into the nook next to Russia's seat. "I can stay up with you. Just let me know if you start to get tired."

"It won't do you any good to force yourself to stay awake."

"I'll be ok." Canada shivered, rubbing his arms under the blanket. He looked up at Russia, intrigued with how his white hair seemed to glow under the moonlight. "So... how are you doing with all this, Ivan?"

Russia shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you just seem to be handling this whole zombie thing frighteningly well. Aren't you scared at all?"

"Does not do good to be scared. Is making more sense to handle events as they happen, da?"

"There's nothing wrong with being scared, Ivan."

"Why should I be scared? If I get eaten, then I was supposed to die. Nothing I can do about that."

"What? Ivan." Canada gasped, sitting up. "Don't think like that. You can't die."

"With everything that's happening, I think I can."

"No, Ivan. That's not what I meant. I don't want you to die."

Russia resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It's funny how everyone suddenly wants him to live. Apparently they were finally concerned with his usefulness, instead of focusing on how evil he might be. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you're my friend." Canada answered softly, as though shocked he even had to say it. Russia was more shocked with how fast he responded. Not even a seconds hesitation to consider it.

"I... am?" He stared down at Canada, barely aware that his mouth was hanging slightly open.

"Well, yea. Of course." Canada smiled. He slid closer to Russia's seat, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "You didn't know that?" After a brief pause, he laughed lightly. "Am I not your friend?"

It's a good thing they were on the water, because Russia might have veered into another car on land. His mind went blank in confusion. "I suppose." He was still trying to comprehend how Canada could see him as a friend. "I just did not think you even like me."

"Of course I like you, Ivan." Canada shifted awkwardly, his fa **ce** flushing. It was strange to be having this conversation. Did he jump the gun on this? "I mean, I know we don't see each other that often, anymore, but we usually get along fairly well." Canada hugged his knees to his chest, chin falling down on them. He felt a bit sad. "I guess it has been a long time since we've just sat down and talked. It's not surprising you forgot we were friends."

Russia shook his head. "Is not your fault, Matvey. You being with Jones, I was bound to be pushed away."

Canada frowned. "Don't start blaming Alfred. You were both petty and stupid in your feud."

"I am not blaming him. I am just saying you picked his side." Russia's demeanor slumped, eyes focusing out onto the dark water. "There was no room for me then."

"Of course I picked his side. He's my brother. That doesn't mean we had to stop talking. It's not like Alfred and I were together 24/7."

"Just about."

Canada groaned. "Ivan-"

"It does not matter, Matvey." Russia shook his head. "Is in the past. No need to worry, now."

Canada sighed, his eyes falling to his feet. He searched his brain for some kind of response, but was scared any further pressing would just start some kind of argument. It's a good thing America wasn't there, because he probably wouldn't have liked to let it drop.

"I am glad to know you still like me." Russia stated, his expression slipping into a genuine smile. "You are my friend too, Matvey."

Canada returned the smile. "That is good to hear."

There was a brief moment, then the sound of static broke the silence, startling them both. "Am I your friend, B-man?" America's voice chimed over the radio.

"Al." Canada scolded, glaring across the water towards the other boat. "Are you eaves dropping on us?"

"What? I was bored, and you two started talking. So, how 'bout it Ivan?"

Russia smirked, leaning in closer to the radio. "Niet."

America scoffed. "Aww, come on. You've called me, Comrade. Doesn't that mean friend, where you come from?"

"Not exactly."

"How come Mattie gets to be your friend?"

"I like him. He does not annoy me."

They both expected America to retaliate immediately, but was quiet for a while. The boat he was driving veering away a bit. "So, what? You still don't like me?"

Russia's immediate reaction was to say no, but America sounded kinda sad, and he was actually feeling guilty.

Through the other end, America laughed. "And I thought we were bonding, you jerk."

Russia's brow creased in confusion. He may have been about to speak when Canada cut him off. "Alfred. How are you holding up over there? Are you tired at all?" He received a more stern look from Russia, but ignored him.

"Nah, I'm alright."

Canada frowned at the radio. "Are you sure? You wouldn't be lying to me now, would you?"

"Pssht. I would never do such a thing."

"Don't pull that." It was a scolding tone, but it held a hint of laughter. "You seem to make a habit out of lying, when something's wrong. It's like your specialty."

America paused for a moment. "Ok, you win." He smirked, even though there was no way they could see him. "I am freezing my balls off out here." The statement was so nonchalant that even Russia smiled at him.

From being reminded of the cold, Canada pulled his own blanket tight. "Don't you have a blanket?"

"I do, but it's hard to drive and get that thing to stay on... Right Ivan!?" He called through loudly, and before he even gave him a chance to respond, "Right. Glad you agree, dude."

Now Russia wasn't sure if he was amused or annoyed. It seemed he just settled on confused.

"Well that coat of yours is pretty warm, isn't it." Canada asked. "Is that not helping?"

"My coat?" America commented, sounding confused. "Mattie, I lost that before I even ran into you."

Canada appeared startled by this news. "You did... huh? You lost it?"

"Uh... yea." America chuckled at him. "Are you goin blind on me, Broseph?"

"No." Canada scoffed, his cheeks flushing... well, more than they already were from the cold. Though it did help him warm up some. "Guess I just didn't really think about it." To be honest he was so used to America wearing that old bomber jacket that he probably mentally inserted it. Besides, the man even slept in that thing. It was only logical to assume he would still have it.

"I was even bitching about the cold in Russia."

Now Russia did laugh. "So you are admitting you bitch?"

"Sometimes."

He wasn't sure why, but not noticing something like that started to make Canada feel uneasy. Even then, it was still just a coat. Why did it seem so important? "So do you want to take a break?" His voice was soft, but the other two stopped talking like he had snapped. That was strange. When did what he had to say become so important? "Give yourself a chance to warm up some."

It took a moment to realize America hadn't flat out refused. Canada thought he had heard him, but it just turned out to be his imagination inserting what he knew to be norm again. The realization only occurred to him when his brother's voice chimed softly. "Do you want me to take a break?"

Canada's jaw slumped; not sure how to respond. America wasn't really one to ask others what they wanted him to do. "Well if you, um... if you need to. You've been driving for a few hours now. I just figured you might want to let someone else take over."

There was silence on the other end, then the smaller boat pulled in closer. Russia revved down the engine along with him. America leaned against the side of the boat, trying to keep his expression straight, but it held a touch of sarcasm. "You want to take over? Or I can wake up Frankie."

Canada's brows raised in confusion, and he glanced over towards where France was curled up in the corner of the small bench that wrapped around the back of the boat. He was shivering slightly, but appeared to be sound asleep. "I can take over. Francis was driving all day."

"So were you." America added snidely.

"Yes, well, I'm already awake."

America scoffed. "Whatever dude. Just let me know if you get tired." He started climbing into the other boat. "I got no problem waking him up."

Canada slid over, shaking his head at his brother. "I don't doubt that."

They started off again, and America curled up in the small nook by Russia's seat. Mainly to try and block himself from the wind. He shivered more under the blanket, not realizing how cold he really was until he had gotten out of it. "God, it's gonna take me a while to get warm again. I think my toes are starting to get frostbite."

Russia shook his head. "Can you feel them?"

"They kinda sting."

"You're fine."

"I said 'starting'." Even still he curled up more, wrapping the blanket tightly around his feet. With himself successfully cocooned withing two blankets, America suddenly felt very tired.

Russia held a weathered eye on him as he curled up in the small area and tried to get comfortable. After a short while of effort, he finally turned his eyes fully back to the water before him. "Why don't you try laying back there, with your parents?"

America scoffed. "For one thing, dude, they're not my parents. Two; the winds blocked up here." He finally stopped twitching and started dozing off. "Also," He added drowsily. "I don't hate you, Ivan."

"What?" Russian glanced down towards the now half asleep nation. "I am not believing that."

"It's true." America yawned. "I mean, I used to." He continued drowsily. "But I mostly stay away from you cause I thought you still hated me. Thought maybe you'd do something to me."

Russia sneered. He says he doesn't hate him, then admits he still thinks he's up to something. "Don't see how that means you don't hate me."

"I'm sorry." His voice had almost fully drifted off to sleep. "I guess I'm just used to people trying to get me that I can't break my suspicious nature."

Russia fell silent, attention half falling on the sleepy nation at his side.

America sighed softly, tucking the blanket tightly into his chin. "Good night, Ivan."

After a breath, Russia's attention turned fully ahead of him, again. "Spokoynoy nochi."

xXx

By the time the sun was high into the sky, Russia and Canada had finally fallen asleep. Curled up with the blankets over their heads. France was driving the smaller boat, and they were actually allowing England to drive the main boat. He had recovered well enough to be able to manage that much. He hated feeling so useless and wanted to do something.

America was hiding under one of the blankets as well, but it was for a completely different reason than the two sleeping nations. For all the preparations they had considered there was something none of them had thought of. They had started to accumulate rather harsh sunburns. The med kits they brought along had aloe that they could use to treat it, but that still didn't stop America from curling up under the blanket like a miserable cat. It was all he could do to stare out over the rolling waves letting his mind wander. It was very easy to forget why they were out here in the first place. Even with the problems they were having, it was still a lot more peaceful than the mainland. It was easy to forget that there were zombies invading their planet. It may be better if they could make some kind of base of operation out in the middle of the ocean. It'd definitely be safer. He curled up further under the blanket, pondering on what they left back on land. What they had lost. He was starting to actually miss Cuba and regretted losing Mexico. Above all else, he was really missing his puppies. They were his babies, and he couldn't do anything to protect them. His fingers fiddled with the tag tags around his neck. He'd do anything to have them back. He missed him so much. It was almost as if he could still hear them barking. Very vividly actually. Although, it must have been a while since he's actually heard their barks. It sounded a little off.

"Does anyone else hear that?" Russia asked, rubbing his still tired eyes.

America froze.

"I've been wondering what that was myself." England added.

America peered out from under the blanket. "Um, is it... like a barking?"

Russia listened intently to the distant noise. "Da. I believe it is."

"Oh good. So I'm not crazy."

"Well, not about this."

"Ha ha."

"Where's it coming from?" Canada sat up, rubbing his eyes. He still had the blanket draped over his head. "It's hard to tell, with the waves."

Everyone fell silent, trying to pin down the source of the mysterious barking. On top of that, trying to figure out why there would possibly be a dog all the way out here.

"Over there." America pointed out some kind of shadow moving on the horizon. At least it may have been moving. It could have just been heat rippling off the waves. "Yo, Iggy, head that way."

"Alfred." England groaned. "We need to stay on course."

"It's not that far off course."

"We don't even know what that thing is. Or even if it is anything."

"It's like jumpin, dude. And it can't be anything dangerous, Ig. It's barking."

"Alfred, what is a dog doing out in the middle of the ocean?"

"I dunno, dude. Let's go find out." He threw a hand out over the water.

England rolled his eyes. "I'm not going out that way, and that's final."

"Oho. That's final, huh." America grimaced.

Canada shook his head. England should know better than to say that to America, by now. He then noticed that his brother had completely unfurled himself from the blanket, and looked as tho he were going to jump over the side. "Alfred!? What are you doing?"

"If Arthur doesn't want to go check it out, I guess I'll just have to go investigate, myself."

"Alfred, don't." Canada sighed in aggravation.

"I'ma jump, Iggy." America raised an eyebrow to his former father. "You gonna make me do that?"

England just sneered, debating on daring him to do it. For some people, he would just call their bluff, but with America, he knew better. America was too stubborn to fall back, even if he was bluffing.

After a short while of being egged on, England finally gave in and headed for the barking shadow, dislodging America from his standpoint. "You are such a brat." He growled through his teeth.

France soon realized they had veered off course, behind him, and summoned through the radio. "Is something wrong?"

England really didn't want to respond, so America did it for him. "Nothing major. We just saw something and are heading to check it out." He smirked at England, getting a glare in return. "I hate you."

America's grin spread wider, patting him on the shoulder. "I know."

As they closed in on the shadow, it seemed to realize they were coming for it. It stopped barking and jumped into the water, swimming towards them.

"What the?" Canada craned his head over to try and see better. "It's heading this way."

As the shadow drew closer they were soon able to tell it was a little white dog, swimming as fast as it could towards them. England's brow crinkled. "That dog looks familiar."

They slowed down and America helped the little white dog climb into their boat. "Hey, little guy." When the dog was fully in the boat it shook the excess water from his fur and soaked the passengers. "What are you doing out here?"

As if in response, the dog started barking again. She stood up on the edge of the boat, alternating between barking at them, and back the direction she came from. "What is is, buddy?" America asked, but she didn't seem too interested in him. Instead, the dog was egging them on more towards the water.

"Iggy, what are you waiting for? Keep going."

"What?"

"She says we need to keep going. Move it."

"Oh what? Am I supposed to believe you speak dog, now?"

"It doesn't take Dr. Dolittle to figure out what she's saying, just go."

"Ugh, fine." England revved the engine up and headed for the spot the dog initially came from. She continued to bark for them to hurry.

Soon they realized the dog was leading them to a small boy floating on a chunk of scrap metal, as it bounced along with the waves.

England's heart nearly stopped, slowing to a halt next to the chunk of metal. "Is that who I think it is?"

America climbed onto the scrap metal while Canada and Russia pulled from the boat to help get the boy in. Canada laid him on the seat. "It's Peter."

France pulled his boat up next to them. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

"We found Sealand." England answered, astonished. "I don't understand. What happened?"

"You think he'd be safe; out away from the mainland." Canada interjected, using some of the water they had, on the boat, to try and cool him off. It was tricky trying to get him to drink it. Sealand was deep under. The white dog, who they now figured must be Sweden's Lapphund, Hanatamago, climbed up into the seat, trying to help wake her master.

"Is looking like no one is safe." Russia stated softly, sitting down on the other side.

Canada glanced back as America climbed into the boat. "We'll find a way." He responded in a whisper. "Hey, Peter. Can you hear me?" Canada wet his hand, tracing it through Sealand's hair. He was burning up, and possibly on the verge of heat stroke.

Thankful no one was throwing an 'I told you so' his way, England took off, France soon following behind. America knelt next to Canada. "Is he ok?"

"I'm not sure. Alfred, see if you can block him from the sun."

"Yea, sure." He grabbed one of the blankets, and held it up over Sealand, tucking part of it behind the seat.

"We can't take him with us."

Everything stopped and they turned towards Russia. America's brows lowered dangerously. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We need to be reasonable. There is barely enough food and water for us."

"Ivan." America growled.

"The boy is half dead as it is. With him being sick, he will require more nutrients than any of us to keep him alive."

America could feel his teeth grinding. He would have probably done something, but he was building up the supplies to hold the blanket up. "We're not just gonna leave him out here."

"We could all die, if we take him with us."

"He can have part of my share."

"Do not be stupid."

"If wanting to protect someone is stupid, then yea I guess I am."

"You can not protect everyone."

"Well that's not gonna stop me from trying."

"Both of you, stop." Canada snapped. He was probably the only one in the world to be able to do that quietly. He turned a pleading eye to Russia. "Ivan, we can't just leave him here. We'll find a way to manage."

Russia's eyes lowered. How did he know he was going to say that?

"Why don't you both just take a step back and try to calm down. We're all just a little stir crazy from being out here so long."

The two nations continued to glare at each other. Soon, America turned his scowl back to his work, and Russia slumped back into the seat.

Hanatamago licked her master's face, curling up at his head and whimpered.

"It's ok, girl." America finished setting up the supplies around Sealand to help hold the blanket over him, and poured some water in a jar lid for her. He sat down, on the seat next to her, scratching her ear. Russia may have had a point, but it just seemed heartless to just abandon these two out in the middle of the ocean again. Plus this little guy was practically his baby brother. An estranged brother, something times removed, but still a part of his messed up little family. They did get along, the few times they met, and he liked the smaller nation's spirit. He had to look out for him.

Also, America couldn't really deny he had a soft spot for Hanatamago. For almost any animal, really. Maybe it was a little bit of longing for his own furry friends, but she definitely earned points being smart enough to lead them to Sealand.

xXx

A few more hours and the sun set again. Russia and Canada had taken up driving duty, while England and France slept. America had taken shift watching over Sealand. They laid the blanket down over him, to try and keep the small nation warm. America sat in the floor of the boat, cocooned in his own blanket. Hanatamago lay curled up beside him. He absently stroked the small dog, his mind finding an almost zen like state amongst the waves. Which was also good because it helped him get his attention off the cold.

There was a light 'huh' from behind him. "Alfred?" Sighed a light voice.

It took America a breath to realize someone even said something, then turned around to see Sealand's blurry eyes staring at him. "Hey, Short stuff." He smiled, turning sideways and brushed a hand through his hair. "How ya feeling?"

Hanatamago's head snapped up in excitement, and jumped back up onto the seat.

"How?" Sealand croaked weakly. "Where am I?"

America positioned himself onto his knees, turning more towards him. "Just a crazy-random-happenstance. We were passing by, and Hana here flagged us down." He gave the dog another scratch behind her ear. "You gotta smart puppy here."

Sealand glanced up at Hanatamago, and reached a hand over to pet her. A small smile crossed his lips. "Well, thanks for saving me, then. Why were you out here?"

"We were just heading over to Japan, to see if we can solve this zombie thing. What are you doing out here?"

Sealand looked around the little boat at the two nations sleeping nearby. "Y'know. Zombies come and run me off my fort. These things happen."

America couldn't help but smile at him. This kid was something else. But now that he was awake, it seemed as if he were much more susceptible to the cold. Although, he did a good job of hiding it.

"Hey you." America chimed. "You cold or something?"

Sealand's eyes widened slightly. It seemed as tho bringing attention to it made him colder. "Ah-of course not." His fists clenched the blanket still draped over his shoulders, as tho resisting the urge to pull it tighter around him.

America smirked. "Well, I am. Sit up."

Sealand was a bit confused but tried to push himself up into a full seated position. America helped the rest of the way, then plopped down beside him. "Give me some of yo body heat." He situated both blankets around them and pulled an arm tightly around the small nation.

Sealand could do no more than chuckle at him, since he still felt pretty weak. His head fell onto America's chest, still working out the last bits of cold. He started falling asleep again, reveling in the new found warmth. Hanatamago laid her front half on Sealand's lap, tail wagging happily. Sealand scratched her head. If she was a cat, she might have been purring.

"Hey, Alfred." Sealand asked sleepily.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any idea where Mama and Papa are?"

America thought for a moment to try and realize who he meant. "I'm afraid not." He squeezed the younger nation's shoulder. "Unfortunately, we only have a short-distance radio, but as soon as we get to Kiku's I'll put out an APB for them. How's that sound?"

"Do you think that will work?"

"Worth a shot."

"I suppose." Sealand yawned, eyes starting to close. "I hope we get there soon."

A sad smile crossed America's lips as he watched Sealand drift off to sleep again. "Yea. Me too, Petey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It makes me a little sad that Sealand is marked as a typo on my lappy. It's also strange to me that it acknowledges Romano, but not Romano's. So... he can exist. He's just not allowed to own anything.
> 
> So, I don't actually know what kind of dog Hanatamago is, but I was looking up Swedish and Finnish breeds, and the Lapphund looked about as close as I could get to her. (Also, they're cute.) Plus there is a breed of Lapphund in both Sweden and Finland. So, I just went with it. Hope you enjoyed and uh new chapt soon... maybe. Unless I decide to update something else. I've decided I NEED to finish every fic I had started. So, I have forbidden myself from starting anything else, unless it's a oneshot, and are trying to focus on three at a time. When one is finished I will rotate in another, and so on and so forth.
> 
> Oh, also, I really don't know that much Russian, and I don't want to insert Cyrillic (So me and all y'all can at least read it.) But I believe Spasibo means thank you, and Spokoynoy nochi means good night.


	30. Chapter 30

At first Germany was planning to tell his brother off for not letting him know his wound reopened, but that resolved died down quickly. Lithuania said he had retreated to the back room to check on Seychelles. He threw back the curtain to find him, and stopped dead in his tracks. (Greece had moved to the front, and Seychelles was asleep.) Prussia had his back to him, on the far bed. Silently cursing himself as he attempted to mend his wound. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't even realize anyone was behind him. Germany's mind shifting the situation around. The wound hadn't opened because of anything he did, and Prussia probably knew Germany would be upset. He was trying to deal with it on his own. Germany sighed, knowing full well he wouldn't want to make someone worry for him, why should he expect this of his brother?

"Gilbert?" He began softly, making his way over. Prussia froze, gritting his teeth. "Fick."

"Are you ok?"

Prussia quickly shoved the med kit under the blanket, trying his best to hide what he was doing. "Ja. Of course I am. What makes you think I'm not-" He paused when Germany showed him the blood print on his arm and sighed. "Scheiße."

Germany sat down next to him. "Let me take a look."

Reluctantly, Prussia pulled up the bottom of his shirt and showed the wound to Germany. The bandages had pulled off, not sticking to the sweaty skin anymore, and the thin stretch of re-fused skin had pulled apart. It looked as if the blood-flow had slowed, but hadn't completely stopped. "Does it hurt much?"

"Not as bad as it looks."

"Here, lay back."

Prussia didn't want to make his brother deal with this, but it was in a difficult position for him.

Germany re-cleaned the wound. With Prussia laying down, the blood-flow nearly stopped, at least long enough for him to redo the wrapping. "The road's blocked by a train." Germany started to explain, mainly because Prussia looked uneasy. "It's too dark to do anything now, but we can check on it first thing in the morning. See if maybe we can use it to get back to Russia and fly out of here. Then, we can get you some actually effective treatment."

Prussia snorted. "Gut. Maybe then I can do something. I feel useless in here."

"You have been useless for years, and that never stopped you before."

"Hey. Halt den Mund." He reached up and flicked Germany in the forehead. Germany smacked his hand away. "Truth hurts." Germany finished mending the wound and re-wrapped it. Hoping that if he wrapped it tight enough it would hold the wound closed. "You need to tell me if this happens again, understand?"

Prussia growled, rolling his eyes.

"I know you don't want me to worry about you, but I'm going to anyway. I don't need to worry about whether or not you're lying to me."

Prussia flashed him a narrow-eyed look that usually meant, 'I hate it when you're right.' "Fine, but don't think this means you can start telling me what to do."

Germany smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Seychelles breathed heavily, in her sleep, and whimpered as it agitated her own wound. Germany's smile faltered. It didn't have the same origin, but her wound was very similar to his brother's. Hopefully they could make it to Japan before they had two of them on their hands.

"What about her?"

Germany glanced over at Prussia who might have had a similar thought in his head.

"It doesn't look as though she'll last much longer."

Germany shook his head, and glanced back to the whimpering girl on the bed, who could be vaguely heard calling out to France for help.

"There's no knowing. We just have to hope we get there soon."

xXx

The next day, Germany, Lithuania, Hungary and Prussia made out to check the train. Greece was left to look after Seychelles. Germany begrudgingly let his brother tag along, but it was better than having him moping around and blaming Germany for not letting him do anything. He appeared to have recovered well enough, but Prussia wouldn't let on if he was in pain anyway.

A good portion of the train was derailed, in the back. It was a freight train, and could potentially run if the wires running overhead were still hot. Of course, they would have to uncouple the derailed portion first.

"Why don't you two check the cars to see if there's anything in there." Germany stated, gesturing to Prussia and Hungary. "Toris and I will check out the engine. See if we can get this thing moving."

"Sounds good." Prussia saluted, and he and Hungary headed for the nearest train car. Germany didn't like splitting off from Prussia, at this time, but he knew if he asked his brother to come with him, then he'd gripe about not needing a baby sitter. Besides, Hungary could be trusted to keep him out of trouble... right? Germany glanced back as they climbed into the nearest car. Perhaps he should reconsider.

Lithuania was already ahead of him, securing the path to the engine car. Which may not have been a good thing, since he seemed to be in some form of daze.

Germany followed, and checked in behind him. The forward car was empty, but there was a trail of blood leading out the door on the front. It looked as if something was dragged out... or possibly dragged itself out. Lithuania peered out the door the blood was trailing through, while Germany set in to figure out the controls to start the train.

"Do you think you can operate it?"

Germany's eyes quickly scanned the panels, harboring a multitude of buttons and switches that might make anyone else's brain explode. "I believe so." He started messing with the switches, until some of the lights turned on, and a low buzz filled the engine room. The buzz was coming from a lever that was now lit green. Germany pushed the lever forward. The train screeched on its wheels, and lurched forward, quickly coming to a stop, as if something had grabbed it. Although, with part of the back being derailed, he wasn't too surprised. He pulled the lever back to starting position.

Lithuania had to grab onto a railing out in front of the train to keep from falling off. He climbed back into the room. "What just happened?"

Germany smiled. "Well, it works." Thank God for some good fortune, finally. "See if you can find something to decouple the train, so we can ride out of here."

"Ok." Lithuania wandered back out of the front of the train to have a look.

Germany double checked the area, and found a map of the railway system in one of the storage baskets near the conductor's chair. "Wunderbar." He sighed in relief. It looked as if the rails passed very close to Russia's air force hanger. Just a few blocks away. Hopefully they would be able to find a way to get to Japan from there.

Germany let out his meagerly retained tension in another deep sigh, falling into the conductor's seat. His eyes scanned the railway over and over again. He knew better than to fully relax until they got to Japan, but this was just too good to be true. They'd definitely be a lot safer on a train, than on the road. He just prayed it would continue to work out this well.

xXx

"So, you go that way, and I'll check out this car back here." Prussia stated, trying to be coy.

"Oh no you don't." Hungary interjected, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "You have a certain proclivity for getting into trouble. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Prussia grinned. "I'm not going to get into any trouble. All I'm doing is checking the next train car. What kind of trouble could I possibly-"

"Just, shut up."

"It'll be faster this way."

Hungary rolled her eyes and pulled him along with her. "We have no need to be quick. If there's any zombies here, then it'd be best for us to stick together. If you get hurt again, you're brother will kill me."

Prussia sighed in annoyance, as he pulled from her grip and followed of his own free will. "Ok, ok. I guess I can accompany you, and keep you safe."

Hungary cast him a snide sideways look. "What are you getting at?"

"Don't try to hide it. I know you're scared and you need big strong Prussia to look after you." Fully expecting it, he ducked when she swung at him, waving a disapproving finger at her. "Nuh uh. You should know better than to hit the injured. -WHOA!"

Hungary shoved him through the door, and followed after him, smirking.

They walked into a long car, barely lit through the dust covered windows. From what they could see, there were tables and booths lining all along the walls. "Hey, it's a food car." Prussia exclaimed, walking down the aisle between the tables. There were plates and cutlery that may have fallen on the floor when the back cars derailed. Some food even joining them, adding a delightful smell of mold to the air.

"So, this is a passenger train." Hungary commented, hands wringing around the frying pan she brought with her. Her eyes narrowed. "Wonder if there's any passengers left?"

"Doubt it." Prussia checked the different tables, swinging his sword idly. "This train looks like it's been abandoned for a while, now. I'm more concerned with where the food's stored. I'm starving."

"If there's any food left, it's bound to have spoiled."

Prussia sighed. "Ja, I know. I'm just being hopeful."

Out of nowhere, the train gave a sudden lurch, and stopped short. The two nations tumbled forward, barely able to stay upright. Prussia dropped a hand on the table, falling on one knee, and Hungary swung into one of the benches. She spun around, her heart still hammering from the shock. "What was that?" She cried.

Prussia placed a hand gently on his wound. "I'm not sure. It almost seemed like the train tried to move."

"Maybe Ludwig got it working." Hungary added, standing from her seat.

Prussia smiled. "Ja, maybe."

Hungary made her way over. "Are you alright?" She grasped Prussia's arm, to help him to his feet.

"I'm ok. Just a little jarred." Prussia stood up and stretched. "I'm gonna go ahead and check out the forward car."

Hungary hesitated for a breath, then nodded. "Ok, just be careful. It looks clear now, but there's no reason to think there couldn't be trouble."

"Ja, ja. I know." He continued on to the next car, leaving the two doors open so that Hungary could still see him, as she double checked.

It was another food car. It looked just the same as the other, except it smelled worse. Almost like the rotting food was more meat than anything else. Or at least was once. He started with hearing a moaning coming from the far end. Prussia hitched up his sword, and made his way down. There was an overturned trolley down towards the end, which had plenty of food that had spilled onto the floor. It didn't look like it had fallen over with the same disregard everything else had. It was almost as if someone had intentionally dumped it over.

As he stepped closer, Prussia could see something sticking out from under the trolley. Closer inspection and he was able to make out they were bones. Femurs, with the other leg and feet bones scattered behind them. Like the skin had rotted away and could no longer hold them together. The smell was more prominent in this area. Prussia's nose scrunched against the stench. "Poor guy. Must have gotten stuck." He poked the bones with his sword, and they started moving, coupled with moaning from the other side. Prussia peered over the trolley to see the legs were in fact connected to a zombie, who was trapped underneath it. It was trying to twist around to reach him, with little success. He would have preferred to leave it alone, but the trolley was blocking the door.

"Anything in here?" Hungary asked as she checked the car, heading towards him.

Prussia turned towards her, his lips quirking grimly. "I found a friend."

"What?" Hungary stepped up her pace, and moved to see where he was indicating. "Ugh." She sneered. "It's blocking the door."

"Ja, I noticed." His eyes fell back onto the zombie, still struggling to reach him. "It looks like he got stuck and wasn't able to get away from his attackers." He indicated the bones. "His legs got chewed off."

"Yes, well, that's horrible." Hungary stated plainly, only showing maybe a small hint of sympathy. "Get it out and kill it, so we can get through."

Prussia flashed her a worrying glance, then grabbed the trolley. Hungary helped stand it up, sliding it off to the side. They stepped back as the freed zombie turned around and started crawling towards them. It wasn't moving very fast. What was left of the zombie looked starved and could barely move. The scraps of clothes he had left barely held onto his thin frame.

Prussia felt a wave of pity for the zombie as he desperately tried to reach his food. This was once a living human that met a very horrible fate. Even in death, he was still suffering. It was surprisingly sad to watch him struggling like this.

Hungary, however, didn't give a second thought to placing her boots against the side of his head, and crushed his skull in. It took her a couple kicks before he stopped moving. Hungary sounded a tad more winded than you'd think she would, but regained her composure quick enough. "Come on, Gil." She flashed him a small smile. "Let's see what's up here." She continued on, but Prussia held back for a ways, eyes landing down on the zombie. He had killed numerous zombies since this whole thing had started. Why, then, did this one make him sad?

The door led to what must have been the kitchen area. There was definitely a smell of decayed food in here. Hungary was already looking through the cabinets for any traces of something salvageable.

"Find anything?" Prussia asked, sounding surprisingly meek for him.

"Nothing edible. We're liable to make ourselves sick with this stuff."

Leaving the searching up to her, Prussia continued on to check out the opposite end. This door lead outside, to a short walkway that curved around to the engine. He could see Germany looking over something, in his hands, from the conductor's seat.

Figuring his brother had things under control, he turned back to see Hungary messing with the faucets, in the small sink. She turned one on and sighed. "Nothing. Don't know why I expected anything different." Turning it back off, she looked towards Prussia. "What's up there?"

"The engine."

"Well, let's head back to check the other cars." She hitched the frying pan on her shoulder, and spun around towards the back of the car. Prussia glanced around the cabinets as he slowly followed behind. He stepped over the zombie, then picked up his pace to catch up to Hungary. "Are you doing ok, Liz?"

She cast him an innocent glance that seemed part-way confused. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Prussia's eyes widened a touch. "I-uh. It's just that-um-you haven't really mentioned Roderich, since..." Her eyes narrowed a bit, and Prussia backed up, "-uh, you know."

"Why would I mention him, again?"

"You've been a little introverted, since we lost him, and then watching you with these things." He glanced back to the dead zombie at the other end of the car. "I'm just concerned."

Hungary rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to be concerned about. Zombies are evil, and I kill them. Since when do you care about brutality?" She started off, but Prussia grabbed her arm. "I care because it's changing you. You do have a history for being brutal, that much is true, but I've never seen you harboring this much hatred, for your target, and I've certainly never seen you enjoying this brutality."

Hungary was nearly glaring daggers at him, but Prussia wasn't faltering. "First you go catatonic, not even caring to move, or do anything, until he wakes up. Then you hardly say a word to anyone, and flip out every time you see a zombie. I'm just afraid you're not dealing with this the way you should."

"I'm dealing with this just find." Hungary growled low in her throat. "I'm simply trying to work towards getting our world back to normal, and in order for that to happen, every single one of these things needs to die."

Prussia's grip tightened on her arm. "There's a difference between killing to preserve and killing out of hate."

"So what if I hate them? Why do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I care? It's not good for you to-"

"Uh... hey, guys."

Both heads swiveled around to see Lithuania standing just in the door behind them, looking very startled. "Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

They looked back at each other, only just realizing how close they were. It was also probably a safe assumption to say they were putting off a rather tense vibe. Prussia released her arm, and they took a step back from each other. "No, not at all." He glanced sideways to see Hungary turn away, and take another step off. "What are you doing here?"

Lithuania gently walked closer, eyes briefly flicking down to Hungary's victim. "Um, Mr. Germany got the train working." He stepped up next to them, his demeanor picking up a bit. "He just asked if I could find a way to disconnect the derailed cars."

"Well, that's certainly some good news." Prussia followed Hungary over into the next car, with Lithuania trailing close behind. "Did you find anything useful here?"

Prussia shrugged. "Not really. "A few empty tables, and some rotten food."

They entered the next car to see something a little different. What could easily be a narrow hallway, and sliding wooden doors lining one side. "Although, this may yield some positive results." Evidently, this was where the passengers stayed, during their travels. If nothing else, it'd give them some better sleep accommodations. Well, after they made sure there was no surprises waiting for them.

Each of the rooms had two benches in each, and a storage rack for any piece of luggage they were to carry on. Some of the luggage had fallen to the floor, some even falling open. Nothing but clothes, and maybe a few toiletries. Not much, but could still be useful. With Hungary's dress shredded, she was wearing Prussia's coat as a dress. Any clothes that had been left in the camper were far too small for her.

She continued to check out the individual compartments, while Prussia slowly made his way to the other end. Lithuania went on ahead outside to see to his task. There was a small nook at the end, where there should have been another compartment. Instead, more cabinets took its place. Prussia checked through the cabinets. It looked as though most of them were empty, aside from a blanket or two. Underneath the cabinets was a compartment, secured with a padlock. Whatever was in there must still be secured and precious. He took his sword, and jammed the tip in the bar of the lock, pushing the blade down until the weathered bar finally snapped. "Ah, gut." Prussia dropped to his knees, and opened the lid. Inside was a large red box, with a white cross on it. Prussia's face lit up, and opened the box. It was filled to the brim with medical supplies. "Jackpot." He leaned back out into the aisle. "Hey, Liz. I found something."

Hungary was only two compartments down. She gave a quick glance in the remaining areas, and made her way towards him. "What is it?" Her eyes scanned over the contents, and lit up, just as his had. "Wow."

Prussia plucked out a spool of thick thread. "With this stuff, we can redo Seychelles suture. Maybe she'll last a bit longer." He closed the lid, and hefted himself back up.

Hungary's eyes narrowed slightly on him. "And, we can finally get you taken care of properly."

Prussia grinned at her. "I suppose so, but she's far worse off than I am." He chucked her in the arm, peeking out through the back door. "She's a priority."

Hungary rolled her eyes.

The next car looked to be a passenger car as well, but it was tipped over and difficult to access. It definitely wasn't coming with them, but it was still worth a look. Prussia was about to lift himself into the car, when Hungary punched him in the back of the shoulder. "Don't even try it. Here." She laced her hands together, indicating she'd offer him a boost. Prussia groaned, but excepted the offer. Once up, he opened the door and slid in, Hungary lifted her own self in, and dropped through the doorway.

xXx

Lithuania examined the back of the still secured train. There was a lever connected to the coupling pin, attaching the two trains together. He tried to lift it out, but the gears had been rusted tight. He sighed, aggravated, and tried to knock the rust away with the butt of his gun. Lithuania started to wonder if the only reason he was brought along was for the grunt work. It seemed to be internationally known as his specialty. Oh well. A little hard work never killed anybody, and honestly he was grateful for it. Anything to keep his mind off recent events. Distracted by their losses, and bouts of misfortune. If he hadn't been thinking about it, maybe he would have seen the train sooner. They couldn't afford things like that, with so many injured on board. He needed to stop focusing on these things too much. Had to try and focus on whatever good luck they had. Being able to actually find Romano, and Prussia. Not to mention the girls. Plus, finding this train was a stroke of luck. The train would certainly be a much safer way to travel... if he could ever get this disconnected.

After a few more hits, he tried the handle again. It moved a tad more, but not much.

Lithuania sighed, and started hammering away on it again. Soon the rusted metal bent, and snapped in two. "šūdas." He growled, and smacked it again. Lithuania sighed, falling against the side of the coupling mechanism, running a hand through his hair. It had grown a might longer, in their time spent out here. Just down past his shoulder blades. Maybe he should get Italy to cut it, like he had Hungary's.

Possible he could pry the pin out, but it would take something sturdier than his rifle. Wonder if there were any tools somewhere? On the ground, nearby, Lithuania spotted a scrap of metal on the ground. It must have fallen from the train, in the crash. Perhaps, it could help.

He pushed off and picked up the scrap, wedging it under the bar, attached to the pen. With the scrap firmly in place, Lithuania started to try and pry it up. The metal gave, slightly, but the pin was slowly coming up.

A snap, from behind, caught his attention. Lithuania jumped, spinning around to see two zombies coming his way. Must have come from the surrounding foliage. Must not have heard them over the creak of the metal.

Lithuania made for his gun, which he'd propped against the coupling mechanism. He got it up just in time to blow the head off of the nearest one. The other had crossed the distance a lot faster than he thought, and grabbed his gun. It was all Lithuania could do to hold the rifle out to keep the monster at bay. Hoping it wouldn't bite his hands. The strength of this zombie was a tad more than Lithuania thought, and he lost his footing. He fell backwards, knocking his head on the railing of the tracks. The zombie had fallen over him, and he struggled to stay conscious enough to keep it off.

He fought to try and focus strength into his arms to push it off, but his head just wasn't letting him, and the zombie certainly wasn't either. Suddenly, something shot out of the front of its head, showering Lithuania's face with blood. He had to close his eyes against it. Whatever had hold of its head slung it off of him. Lithuania sat up, quickly, wiping the blood from his eyes.

"There you are. Thought I'd never find you, Tori."

Lithuania finally unblocked his vision to see Poland standing over, wiping the blood from one of his swords. "You ok?"

"Feliks?" Lithuania gasped, hazily. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard some loud clinking, and came to check it out." Poland helped him onto his feet, sliding an arm around him to try and keep him on his feet. "Didn't think I'd find you here, but I'm not going to question it."

"It's good to see you." Lithuania shifted a hand to the back of his head, falling back down to his knees. Poland made sure he didn't fall too hard. "Hold on, now." Poland gasped, worry etched across his face. "Just take it easy. You'll be ok."

"What happened?" Hungary cried, making her way over.

"It's all good." Poland responded, with a small grin, using his handkerchief to clean Lithuania's face. "Just a little mishap. Tori hit his head, though."

Hungary knelt down to check on him, feeling the goose egg on the back of his head. Once he was sitting comfortably, she glanced up to Poland. "Where did you come from?"

Poland just grinned, and shrugged. "Just passing by. Good thing I did too, or our boy here might have been zombie chow."

Lithuania flashed him a look that most likely said, don't talk about me like that.

They heard Prussia grunt as he lifted himself out of the door.

Hungary's head swiveled around, nearly getting to her feet. "Gilbert, you alright?"

"I got it." Prussia winced, sliding out the door. He hit the ground, falling against the side of the train, a hand falling on his stomach. "I'm fine. Just a bit winded."

She eyed him skeptically, her gaze narrowing.

"So, did you find anything?"

"Just more clothes, and such." Hungary sighed, settling back down.

"What's going on?" Germany asked, as he made his way around the train.

"Everything's under control, Lutz." Prussia waved a dismissive hand at him. "Why don't you make sure Ita and the others are ok. Apparently there's some strays wandering around."

Germany glanced over to his brother, taking in his posture. "Is the train secured?"

"Ja. Unless some kind of monster springs out of the rotting leftovers." Prussia grinned, gesturing towards the train.

Germany shook his head, and started off. "I'll see to getting the others transferred then. Make sure you get the train disconnected."

Prussia gave a mock salute. "Jawohl."

Poland scratched his head. "So, what, you all taking this train?"

"That's the plan." Lithuania added, quietly, fingers still pressing into the lump on his head. "But I can't get the pin out."

"Oh?" Poland slid over and examined the area Lithuania had been working on. "What, this thing?"

"Taip."

Poland's eyes skimmed it for a breath, then plucked the scrap metal out. He drew his other sword, and wedged both in the gap, proceeding to pry it up. After a bit of strain, the pin slid out, successfully separating the cars. "Bingo." He beamed, slipping his swords back into place. "Piece of cake."

"What do you know. You proved yourself useful." Prussia laughed. "Guess we can bring you along."

Poland gave his a snide smirk. "Who ever said I wanted to come along?"

Prussia shrugged. "Well, we could just leave you out here. May slow the biters down enough for us to get away."

Poland laced his hands behind his back, and swung lightly. "What? You can't handle any stragglers."

"I'd prefer it if I had less hassle to deal with." Prussia cocked a brow, folding his arms across his chest. "Hassle referring to you and them."

"Oh, poor Prussia." Poland rocked on his heels, stepping closer. "Lacking a bit, in your old age?"

"Tssht. Like you have room to talk."

"Maybe so, but it would seem like I kept up better." Poland grinned wickedly at him. "You know, if some undead are giving you problems, maybe you should let someone with better survival skills take over."

"Please. I've survived better than you'll ever know."

"I've come back many times, from the brink of destruction." Poland cocked a head, coyly. "Just ask your brother."

"Ouch." Prussia laughed. "Well-"

"Ok, you two." Hungary groaned, rising to her feet. "Enough witty banter. We need to start transferring our supplies."

"Oh, come on, Liz. We were just having some fun."

"Neither of you will let each other have the last word, so I'll have it." She stated plainly, crossing over towards the camper. "We don't have time for this. You can argue once we're safely on the train." She headed on, following Germany's lead.

"Cool." Poland smirked, helping Lithuania back to his feet. "Come on, Tori. Let's getting you laying down." Lithuania climbed into the train car, followed closely by Poland.

"Hold on." Prussia started, pushing off the side of the train. "We didn't agree you could come along."

Poland just smiled. "Come on now, Prussia, don't try to hide it."

"Huh?"

"I can read between the lines. You were practically begging me to come."

"You must have been reading the wrong story."

"It's ok." Poland winked. "I'll protect you." They disappeared into the train.

Prussia smiled, laughing lightly. "I like him."

xXx

They fashioned a stretcher out of some blankets, to transfer Seychelles. She didn't like being moved, but she had to deal with it. Hungary and Greece set forth to getting her secured, and started in on trying to fix up her wound. At least they had some sedatives for her.

Italy, Romano and Sicily helped Germany transfer their supplies. There wasn't much. Some food, and stray bedding. They even managed to salvage what little water was still left in the holding tank. Of course, they tossed out the zombie, and the rotten food, before putting anything away. Maybe any stragglers would go for it. Not that any of them could catch up to a train, but it didn't hurt to try and keep them out before they took off.

Germany was getting everything set up in the engine room, when Prussia came sliding in. "Everyone's on board."

"Including the supplies?"

"Everything's cleaned out, and in place. Even getting Seychelles taken care of." He leaned against the railing next to Germany's chair. "I told everyone they should brace themselves, since we'd be taking off soon."

"Gut. You should do the same." Germany stated plainly, starting to mess with the switches.

Prussia smirked, and grasped hold of the railing, throwing out a leg for extra support. Not a very sturdy hold, but he wasn't the type to scrape for security.

Germany wasn't about to push it. He grasped onto the handle, and started to engine. Prussia, along with maybe a few others were jarred, but before long they were racing along the tracks, at a steady pace.

Soon Hungary popped into the engine room. "There you are?" She entered, striding up to Prussia, having changed into pants and a tank shirt she must have found in with the clothes. Obviously making no real effort to hide her burn scars. "Come on back here, and I can take care of you."

"Have you taken care of Seychelles?"

"I cleaned the wound out, and restitched the area. It's still infected, but at least it looks better. Heracles is looking after her." She stated quickly, before Prussia had any more time to protest. "Now come on. The sooner we get you healed up, the better you'll be able to fight." She grabbed his arm, and started dragging him out. Prussia followed obediently, figuring there was no reason to fight it.

She lead Prussia into one of the passenger booths and forced him to lay on the seat. It wasn't too wide, but at least it was comfortable enough. Maybe they could finally get a decent night's sleep.

Prussia wasn't nearly as awkward about having his shirt off around Hungary, as he was with Ukraine. He supposed it was because he knew her better, but there was a good chance he was just worried about any residual pain. Hungary typically had a good bed-side manner, but not a very gentle touch. She tried; it just wasn't her nature. She was so ingrained to be a warrior that she had problems managing it. That was before she had this vengeful stretch, and was trying to find very bad ways to release this vengeance. Hopefully she shall show mercy on him.

It was painful enough she had to pluck out the stitches that were still there. Made even worse with irritation from constant agitation. Especially when she started to clean it out.

Slowly, as she worked, Hungary's eyes softened, finally releasing a pale wistful sigh.

Prussia had his eyes closed, trying to direct his focus elsewhere when he heard this. "Elizaveta?"

"I'm ok." For the first time, in her waking life, her expression was soft, albeit still a touch sad. "Just thinking." She was starting to restitch his wound, her eyes practically glazing over.

Prussia hissed at the procedure. He always hated having to actually get stitches. "I'd appreciate it if your thinking would remain on the task at hand." A slightly strained smile crossed his face.

Hungary gave another soft sigh. She fell silent, a contemplative moment passed, before she spoke again. "I just keep thinking about that night." She began softly.

Prussia was trying very hard to focus his attention on her, but damn it stung.

"We had been looking for Romano, and finally found him." A tender smile almost emerged. "There was so much hope, and happiness... then it was gone." The last traces of anything joyous slid from her face, and her eyes showed a glimpse of the pain. "I mean, I've had times when a situation could change fast, but it was too fast for even me to process. Romano was gone, and the area we thought he would be was overrun. The girls were still alive, but we learned Antonio was dead, and Romano had run off."

She fell quiet again, her needle slowing down as well. "I was right there with him." A sheen of tears formed over her eyes. "Roderich was right beside me, and before I even realized he'd screamed, he was gone." She finished and tied off the stitch. "Realizing how fast I could lose someone... I just don't want that to happen again." Her eyes lingered on the needle, still in her hand, glinting from the setting sun flickering through the windows. Prussia sat up, and slid his shirt back onto his shoulders. "I want to destroy them before they take anyone else away from me." Her eyes swam with tears, but she wouldn't let any of them fall.

"I can't face that again."

Prussia slid a hand behind her neck, fingers twining in her hair. "You can't spread yourself this thin."

"I know." She sighed. "I just don't know what else to do."

Prussia gently pulled Hungary's head onto his shoulder. There was a good chance she would pull away, but she didn't seem too interested in doing so. Even strong beings needed an anchor every once in a while. Instead her face fell into his shoulder, fingers wrapping around his arm. "You can start by letting me take up some of that burden." His fingers traced slowly through her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Wow, chapter 30. Huzzah for this being my longest fic ever, (It actually has been for about 8 chapters now, but I just now realized it.) So, I know Poland is most likely a bit OOC, but I really can't do valley girl. So, I was trying to channel sassy gay friend. Plus I want everyone to bond with Prussia. YAY PRUSSIA!
> 
> Also, I had to stop a few times to enjoy a maniacal laugh. I had been focusing so hard on other character's angst that I just now realized Hungary had some beautiful work forming. :evilgrin: I love my brain sometimes. It does things without me even noticing.


	31. Chapter 31

GOOD NEWS!

They finally made it to Japan.  Well, at least the island nation was in sight.  Unfortunately, for them the larger boat did, in fact, run out of gas just under half a mile from shore.

America cursed the boat, as he repeatedly yanked the rip cord for the engine.  Trying to milk the last bit of fuel.  “Come on, you piece of junk.  The shore is right fucking there!”  All he was able to get was a sharp, 'whip' sound.  Maybe a short sputter that ended as quickly as it started.

“Alfred.”  Canada laid a hand on his brother's wrist, to stop him.  “Definition of insanity.”

America sighed, his head dropping.  “Yea, well, who ever said I was sane.”

“Well, the waves are starting to pick up.”  England stood, staring off towards Japan.  “Maybe they can carry us to shore.”

Russia, who was currently driving the smaller boat, examined the areas around them.  “Do you think is possible for this boat to pull that one?”

“It's hard to say.”  France sighed, slumping against the steering wheel.

America flopped into the seat.  “Maybe we could just all cram into that one.”

England shook his head.  “There's no way we'd all fit.”

Russia's eyes ran over the fuel gauge.  “I have enough fuel remaining for, maybe, two trips, there and back.”

France sat up, in his seat.  “Our main priority is to get the supplies to the shore, then find a way to Tokyo.”

“Well, first we have to figure out where, in Japan, we are.”  England interjected.

“We can look for a welcome center or something.”  America commented, trying to check the land for any signs of movement.

“Ok, how about this.”  France stated, rising from his seat.  He swayed a bit, with the tilt of the waves, but made the few steps towards the edge, nonetheless.  “You can go ahead and take Matthieu, Alfred and me to land.  The four of us can scout out the area, and unload the supplies.  That way you'll have less exertion when you round back for Arthur and um.”  France glanced down at Sealand, who was obviously far too exhausted to keep his eyes opened, at a momentary loss for the micro nation's name.  Hanatamago lay at his head, her brown eyes fixed intently on her master.

“Peter.”  Canada whispered helpfully.

“Oh, oui, Peter.”

“Hold on a minute.”  England rose to his feet and scowled, his large brows furrowing.  “Why the bloody hell do I have to stay back on the boat?”

France rolled his eyes.  He should have known that was coming.  “Because that boat can't hold much else, and we need able bodies on land to lead into this new area.”

“Then why the hell is Alfred going?”

“Hey.”

“I'm well enough to at least function properly, where he keeps wanting to collapse.”  England growled, mostly annoyed at the sharp twinge in his phantom limb.  “It's not my fault my arm got chopped off.”

France cocked a brow at him, fists hooking to his hips.  “Then who's fault is it?”

“His.”  England cried, whipping a finger right around to America.

“What?”  America flinched, with the accusation.  A short lived flutter of panic, similar to a kicked puppy, that maybe two of them had a chance of noticing.  Just as quickly, America's face twisted into a snarl, standing up into his face, rocking the boat with his movements to where France had to sit back down for fear of falling in some way.  “You know, nobody asked you to go down there with me!  I would have been just fine!”

“Don't be daft!”  England growled back, deliberately taking his hand from his arm.  “You would have winded up dead, and you know it.” 

Unknown to them, Sealand started to stir, slowly opening his eyes.  Possibly roused by the shouting, but it wasn't certain.  Hanatamago curled in closer to him, not liking the tension flitting through the boat.

“I don't need you to protect me, anymore!  I can handle things, on my own.”  America had a difficult time pushing back both his urge to yell in his face, and the angry tears that wanted to worm their way out.  Although he wouldn't admit who they were towards.

“That's the kind of bull headed thinking that's going to get you killed.”

“Alright, enough.”  France stood up between them, gently nudging the hot tempered nations apart.  “You two need to take a step back and calm down.”  He glanced pointedly between them.  “You can rip each other apart later.  We are almost there, just hold off a little longer.”

“Who was talking to you?”  England snapped, shift his annoyance towards France.

France's lips pursed in a very peculiar manner.  He really didn't want to snap back at him.  That would be negating the entire point he was trying to make.  “I just don't think we need any more tension in our group.”

“Why don't you just mind your own damn business.”

Damn, he was making this difficult.  France leaned into his face, growling low in his throat.  “We are also currently lucky enough to not have zombies in our immediate area, and you yelling may attract them.”

England's eyes widened slightly, in light of this new argument.

“Do you want to lose another arm?”

… “No.”

“Then drop it.”

America was being strangely quiet during this exchange, his eyes drifting over towards Sealand.  “You know what, screw it.”

Everyone glanced over at him.

America dug in his pocket and dropped something into Canada's hand before turning back towards France.  Canada glanced down to see the lock-picking mechanism Russia had given America earlier.  “Go ahead and let Arthur go.  I'll stay here.”

All jaws inwardly dropped.  “What?  Why?”  England inquired, not really caring that he just got what he wanted.

America shrugged.  “I'll just stay back with Peter.”  His eyes narrowed on England, brow's raising in an accusatory manner.  “It just occurred to me that it wouldn't be a good idea to leave Arthur alone with him.”

England glared back, not liking the implication. 

“Um.”  France exchanged an unsure glance with Canada, who shrugged.  “Ok.  If you're sure.”

“Yea, go ahead.”  America flashed England a snide grin, flopping back onto the seat, jarring the boat once more.

France was still very confused.  “O... k, then.  I suppose we should get going.”

“Bye.”  America waved as they climbed into the smaller boat.

“We should be back soon.”  Canada climbed over, settling in behind Russia.

Everyone settled in, and England gave one more unsure glance back at America.  He was feeling kind of bad now, for making him stay behind, and some of the things he said... that is until America turned his wave over and flipped him off, as they drove away.  “Git.”

Once out of sight, America slumped in the seat, with an exasperated sigh, head falling backwards.

“What was that about?”

America rolled his head towards Sealand to take in the uncertain gleam in his eyes.  He turned his head back up to the sky, eyes closed against the sun, and smiled.  “Iggy's just being an ass.”

Sealand pulled the blanket in tight to his chin.  “It's ok.  I didn't expect him to want to stay behind with me.”

America sat up straighter, his eyes furrowed in confusion.  “What are you talking about?  That had nothing to do with why he wanted to go.”

“Na, don't worry about it.”  Sealand grinned, stretching his arms over his head.  His hand fell down, and scratched Hanatamago's ear, as her sleeping head rest on his lap.  “It's not the first time he's abandoned me.”

America's expression deflated, but he covered it up quickly, throwing an arm around Sealand.  “Hey now, don't talk like that.”  He squeezed the micro-nation tight.  “No one's abandoning anybody.  You're not a hundred percent, and Iggy's being... well, a gigantic pain in the ass.”

Sealand laughed lightly at that.

America smiled.  “He's just been hors de combat for a while.  He just wants to get back in on the action.”  He squeezed his shoulder, reaching his other hand over to scratch Hanatamago.  “Don't give much thought to him.  I never do.”

Sealand let out a sigh that easily evolved into a yawn.  It was difficult not to think about England just wanting to get away from him, but at least someone cared.  Even if it was England's precious golden child.

xXx

“So, what exactly are we going to do, once we reach the shore?”  France inquired, perched upon the side of the small boat. 

“We get to shore, find a working vehicle, unload the supplies, then head back for Alfred and Peter.”  Canada answered, running his thumb over the lock breaking device.  It made him nervous leaving the two of them back there, but at least they were safer out in the water.  Let's just hope the boat doesn't get carried off on a stray wave.  It'd also be good to hope his over-zealous brother doesn't just jump in and swim to shore.  Not with Sealand and Hanatamago to look after. 

“We should try to find an information center somewhere.”  England added, still seeming perturbed.  “It'd be good if we could find a map.  Try to get our bearings, and the fastest route to Tokyo.”

France craned his neck to see the shore better.  “It still doesn't look like there's any zombies, but we'd better tread carefully.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”  England grunted.

France scoffed.  “Just because you're fighting with your own inadequacies is no reason to take it out on me.”

“Shut your snail hole, Frog.”

“Shut up.”  Russia growled at them, successfully cutting off the argument.  Of course, it mainly stopped because they were all looking at him oddly.  It was strange to have Russia showing his annoyance so openly.

It wasn't long before they reached the shore.  “You three go on ahead and look for car.”  Russia started, pulling the boat in as much as the water would allow.  He looked back over their supplies, factoring in the limited amount that remained.  “I can go back, before half our group is swept away.”  The group agreed, and Canada and France jumped out first, shortly followed by England.  They splashed in the waist high water, making their way to shore, as Russia swung the boat around and headed back.  Before leaving the water, the three drew their weapons and surveyed the area.  It was very possible the motor of their boat could be heard, and they were not taking any chances of something taking them by surprise.  There was too much battle (as well as undead) experience, within the group, to not be cautious.

There were no zombies, within the immediate area, but that didn't mean they couldn't be close by.  It also didn't help that there were no visible cars.  To be honest, there wasn't much.  A few boats lined the harbor, and some shop windows had been busted out, but all in all Japan appeared to be getting the better deal out of this.  Of course, the normal hustle and bustle of people was no where to be found, but it was actually kind of peaceful. 

The three nations crept along in a V-like pattern, trying to make sure to keep all areas in sight.  Canada was very tempted to knock over a trash can, or do something to make noise, to draw anything hiding out into the open.  He then shook the notion away.  It wouldn't do any good for him to start channeling his brother's reckless behavior.  Instead, he inched along the road onto where the main street would be.  Again, there was the stark reality of emptiness, but with more evidence of previous life.  Glass littered the streets, where most likely supplies had been salvaged, and more vehicles were abandoned along the side of the road.  Canada turned back to the two older nations and whistled.  Both England and France turned towards him, and he waved them over.

“Let's hope one of these run.”  He stated, waving his crossbow towards the array of cars.  The three exchanged understanding glances, then started to split off, checking the different cars.

“Stay within earshot.”  England added, even though it wasn't necessary.  There was only maybe five cars along the stretch of the road.  It's not like it would take that long anyway.

 

Russia had retrieved the last of their group, and he and America pulled the small boat onto shore.  Sealand tried to help, but who's to know how much he actually was.  America sighed, wiping off his brow, his eyes scanning the area.  “Where'd the others run off to?”

“Checking the streets for vehicles.”

“Well, perhaps we should do the same.”

“I'll stay here and guard supplies.  You can find them.”  Russia stated, drawing the long sword from his pipe.

America smirked, shaking his head.  “I don't suppose telling you 'there's no one here to take our stuff' would change your mind, would it?”

Russia flashed him one of his ever pleasant condescension smiles.  “Of course not.  You are big boy.  I trust you to take care of yourself.”

America snorted.  “I wasn't worried about me.”

“That makes two of us.”  Russia shrugged.  “Besides, what if zombie come and infect our food.”

America's jaw quirked, contemplating that statement.  “That would be bad.  Alright, fine.  Look after Peter.”

Russia would have protested this, but Sealand beat him to it, running after America.  “I don't want to stay here.  I want to fight.”

America pulled his arm from the small grip.  “It's dangerous out here.  We don't know how many zombies are here.” 

“Which is exactly why you shouldn't go alone.”

“I'm going to meet up with Matthew, and them, and besides, you're still... sick.”  America hesitated on the last of his words, mentally face-palming.  How many times had the others told him that, and he just ignored them.  Sealand was definitely just as stubborn as he was, if not more reckless.  That was when another idea occurred to him.  America knelt down in front of Sealand, whispering, “I just need you to stay here and look after Ivan.  It's not safe for him to stay here alone.”

Sealand glanced over at Russia, then turned an unimpressed scowl back to America.  “Nice try, but you just want me to stay here, so he can look after me.”

America couldn't help but be amused, even if he was still annoyed.  This kid wasn't going to fall for stupid tricks.  “I don't want to drag you into the middle of it.”

Sealand folded his arms in a dazzlingly childish huff.  “I can take care of myself.  I want to help.”

America was definitely seeing far too much of himself in this young micro-nation.  Finally, he sighed in defeat.  “Alright, fine.  You can come, but you have to stick close to me.  Got it?”

“Yea, sure.”  Sealand resolved, but still wasn't too happy with being treated like a child.

America stood, and the small white Lapphund caught his eye.  Sealand he may bend for, but he really didn't like bringing this little dog out onto the battle field.  His own dogs may have been pets, but they had been trained for combat, and defense.  Just by the way she held herself and acted, he could tell that this little dog was just a house pet.  “One thing, though.”  He glanced back down to Sealand.  “I at least think we should leave Hanatamago here.”

“Huh?”  Sealand glanced down at her.  The small dog got to her feet, with his attention, and started wagging her tail.

“Just leave her in the boat, and make sure she stays there.”

Sealand considered this, for a brief moment, then rationalized that he had a point.  “Ok.”  Sealand scooped Hanatamago up, in his arms, and made his way over to the boat, depositing her into it.  He rubbed her head, telling her to stay put.  Hanatamago obeyed, settling into the boat, but she whimpered when he walked away; laying her head against the edge of the boat.

America waited, a bat propped on his shoulder.  “Make sure to look after her, Ivan.”  Russia didn't really want to take care of some stupid dog, but resigned, and waved a dismissive hand.  “Da.”  When Sealand rejoined him, they started off, on towards the little shops along the shore.  “Just stick close to me, Peter.”

Sealand rolled his eyes.  “Yea, fine.”

America noted his annoyance at being told what to do, and smiled, then turned to look around the small shops, his hand wringing the handle of the bat.  He had grown so paranoid, that he half expected something to spring out of every nook, cranny, and shadow.  I mean, why shouldn't it?  There were mostly knickknack stores, for tourists to buy cheap novelty items.  One of these looked as though it could be some kind of welcome center.  If the others were on top of getting a car, then he might as well try to figure out where they were.  “Let's check this place out.”  America waved back to Sealand, slowly creeping in through the window.  His shoes crunched on the rug of broken glass littering the inside.  The aluminum bat had left his shoulder, and was now held at the ready.  Creeping slowly through the shelves of snow globes, America's head whipped back around when Sealand crunched behind him.  Sharply, he waved for him to come closer, whispering shortly, “Hurry up.”

“I'm coming.  Don't get your knickers in a twist.”  Sealand finished climbing through the window, (it was a little high for him) and scurried over.

America just rolled his eyes.  “Stay quiet.”

“I am.”  Sealand huffed.

America's hands twisted around the bat more.  This kid was starting to get on his nerves.

Around the shelves, harboring lots more fun touristy things, America could make out a more open area.  More shelves led out of it, and there was a cash register near the back of the store.  Beside the cashier's counter, was a giant map hanging on the wall.  “Ha, perfect.”  America crept closer to the map, eyes still shooting around the small area until he was right up on it. 

The only light, in the store, was the mid-day sun shining through the broken window, so America had to squint to make out where they were.  It wasn't a full map of Japan.  More like a zoom in of the Hokkaido island.  His finger landed on a huge, 'you are here' sign, which appeared to be somewhere just outside of Sapporo.  America's shoulders slumped.  They were still so far away from their goal.  It just wasn't fair.

“Alfred.”  Sealand tugged on his shirt, shifting to the other side of him.  “Look.”

“What?”  America glanced down to see where he was pointing and followed his finger.  Off behind the counter was another room.  The door had a large semi-transparent glass window, where they could make out the shadow of a figure wandering aimlessly within.  The figure periodically smacked at the door.  Not in a frenzied way, but more along the lines of being locked in somewhere and only halfheartedly trying to find a way out.  If it was a zombie, it seemed to have no idea anyone was out there.  “Come on.”  America whispered softly, nudging Sealand back towards the broken window.  He'd gotten the information he needed.  It would be better to get out before anything was made aware of their presence.

When they made it back to the window, America saw more figures shuffling past, outside.  It definitely wasn't any of their allies.  “Stay down.”  America whispered, pulling Sealand back behind the shelves.

“Why?”  Sealand lightly pulled at his arm.  “We can just kill them.”

“No.”  America hissed, dragging him back down.  “We don't want to draw unneeded attention to ourselves.”

“But it's just a few of them.”

“There could be more.  You never rush into a situation blind.  It's a good way to get yourself killed.”  Again, America could kick himself for sounding like England.  It was a mentality he used in his own strategy, but the kind of actions he may have thought were logical are completely different than the logic of others.

They both jumped when the door behind the counter gave an extra loud thud.  Apparently this one suddenly decided it wanted out.  The noise drew the attention of the zombies outside of the window.  America swore, under his breath, and flattened himself against the shelves, keeping an arm across Sealand's chest.  The zombies were stumbling along the other side.  If they kept quiet, they could easily sneak out.  Or, on the other hand, there were only four of them.  If he needed to kill them, he could.  On the other other hand, since they'd be working in this area, it might be a good idea to kill them anyway.  Fine.  Whatever.  “Stay put.”  America whispered down to Sealand, before creeping out behind the last zombie in line.

Sealand huffed again, but did as he was told.

America choked up on the bat, in his hands, and swung straight for the back of the nearest zombie's head.  The force knocked it to the ground, knocking a large dent in the back of its skull.  The other three turned towards him, with the sound of the metallic clang.  The lead was close to the counter, and the other two nearly the same distance away from him, so America unhooked his second bat, staring them down.  “Come at me, bro.”

The zombie's easily took the invitation, and started for him.  Duel wielding was never his strong suit, but America didn't want to have to take these things out one at a time, and he definitely didn't want to have to resort to his gun.  This method was noisy enough as it was.  The two closest zombies each received their own bat.  However, with the force of the momentum, America's left arm twinged.  The one it hit still tumbled over, but it didn't have nearly as much force behind it.  He had to smack it again till it stopped moving.  The one on his right crashed into the shelves, shattering the numerous accessories on the shelf.  Showering himself with broken glass, water, and fake snow.  Sealand yelped, from behind the shelf, but no one, but America seemed to hear him.

The forth zombie was right on him, by the time he turned around, but America had already dropped the left bat and spun around to nail it in the cheek.  The head caved in, as it collapsed to the ground.  By this point, the zombie that had fallen into the shelves rushed him, from a sitting position.  America kicked it in the gut, knocking it flat on its back.  He stood over it, holding the aluminum bat, with the end pointing straight down and slammed it down into its forehead.  After a short bit, it stopped twitching and fell limp.  America double checked the four zombies, knocking each in the head again, for good measure.  He sighed, wiping the blood from his face.  “You alright, Peter?”

“Yea.”  Sealand crept out from behind the shelf, brushing glass off his hat.  “That was pretty cool.”

America smirked, shouldering the bat again.  “Yea, I know.”

By the time Sealand looked up from his hat, he realized the door behind the counter had been knocked open, and a short, brown-haired zombie was heading for America.  “Alfred!  Look out.”

America swung around to see it, but before he could do anything, its face ruptured with glass, and water.  A resin kappa lodged deep in its cheek.  America took its moment of distraction to knock it upside the head.  A sharp crack came from it, the head hanging uselessly on its shoulders, from the broken neck.  America turned to see Sealand standing ready with another snow globe in his hand.  He gestured the bat towards the zombie.  “That was you?”

“Uh.  Yea.”  Sealand responded, seeming to just register he had the snow globe in hand.

“Nice arm.”  America stepped closer, scooping the second bat from the ground.  He really had to admire a good throwing arm.  “Here.”  Shaking the traces of blood from the end, he held the aluminum bat out to Sealand.  He wouldn't trust one of his beloved pistols to the micro-nation, but the kid had definitely earned a weapon.  “Just so you can bust baddy skulls in too.”

Sealand's grin threatened to cleave his face in half.  He dropped the snow globe, scattering the floor with even more water hazards, and seized the bat.  “Hey, thanks.”

America laughed at his enthusiasm.  “Just don't get carried away, kid-o.”  Like he was one to talk.

“What the bloody hell's going on in here?”  They both spun at England's voice to see him climbing through the window.  He surveyed the area, and grimaced.

“Just a little recon.”  America stated, heading back towards the window; Sealand following close behind.  “Ran into a bit of a snag, but the situation has been neutralized.”

England stared down at the four zombies, soon following them out the window.  “There aren't any more, are there?”

America shook his head.  “It's difficult to know for sure, but it seemed like these guys were just stragglers.”

England groaned.  “Can't we ever catch a break?”

“I'd say we have.  Don't jinx it, Ig.”

On the way back to the shore, they could make out France and Canada pushing a dark blue Honda towards Russia.  Canada steering through the window.

“So, I got good news, and annoying news.”  America began as he stepped up to join the group. 

“Oh no.”  France sighed, dusting off his hands.  “What news?”

America shrugged.  “Well, technically, the good news isn't that much of a surprise.”  He pointed a thumb back at the welcome center.  “I found a map, and we have, actually made it to Japan.  Y'know, not some random island.”  His free hand planted on his hip.  “The annoying news is that we're on Hokkaido.”  This was annoying because the island of Japan was actually made up of four small islands.  Hokkaido, Honshu, Shikoku, and Kyushu; the second of which is where Tokyo was.  It was also the largest of the Japonic islands.  The only way between the two islands was by train. 

Russia, who had been collecting everything together, jumped out of the boat, with the small cooler.  “Well, more good news is we are not having much supplies left.”  He stopped in front of the car, holding it out for the others to see.  “If we have to, we can just carry.”

Canada looked inside to see what little was left of their food.  It should be enough to get them to Tokyo, but it was still a little sad.  “I guess that's good news.”

France reached in through the front door and popped the trunk for Russia.  He wrenched it fully open and set the cooler inside.  “If worse comes, we are not needing the clothes.”

“Speak for yourself.”  France snorted, heading for the boat.  “It's unhealthy to go for too long without cleans clothes.”

England rolled his eyes.  “I think dirty laundry is the least of our health concerns.”

France elected to ignore him, and climbed into the boat.  “Matthieu, come give me a hand.”

Canada hesitated some, also not seeing the clothes as a necessity, but decided to help anyway.  As long as it didn't start to hinder them, and placated France, it wasn't much of a bother.

England just threw up his hand in defeat, and fell against the car.  “How is he still alive?”

“Mad surrendering skills?”  America offered, from under the hood.  He was busying himself with  making sure the car would even run.

England smiled at the comment.  France was certainly a decent fighter, which he had learned from experience, but he did prefer to not be involved in confrontation.  “Or, perhaps, a heightened foresight.”  England commented, making his way around to the front.

America wiped the dipstick off on the hem of his shirt, and slid it back into the oil tank.  “That would certainly be useful.”  He pulled it out, checking the oil levels.  “Well, everything seems to be looking good.”  After slipping the dipstick back in, America shut the hood, and started back around the car. 

England glanced back down at the car, before following.  He wasn't even going to try to check over it himself.  This automobile stuff was all Greek to him.  “Think it can get us to Tokyo?”

“At least to Sapporo station.  Y'know, if she starts.”  America shrugged. Waltzing around towards the back where Canada and France were finishing up loading the car.  “You guys ready?”

“I think so.”  France stated, not even seeming to care that this little laundry excursion stalled them briefly.

“Well, get ready to move.  I'm gonna see if I can start the car.”  America started back and climbed into the driver's seat yanking out the wires.

Out of nowhere, Russia appeared in shotgun.  America glanced up at him, a bit confused.  “What'cha doin?”  He asked, in an attempt at impersonating a small girl with a large pink bow.

Russia shrugged.  “Getting ready to move.  I do not like back seat.  Make me sick.”

“Alright.  Whatever dude.”  America knocked the wires together until the engine finally ignited.  “Awesome.  Pile in, guys.”

The rest of the gaggle climbed into the back seat, Sealand and Hanatamago perching on Canada's lap.  England surveyed the situation, and frowned deeply once he realized he had somehow been wedged into the center of the back.  “Bollocks.”  He never gets a window seat.

As they were climbing in, some nearby creatures had been alerted by the sound of the engine.  Once their undead eyes had discovered the source, their speed picked up.

“Shit.”  America growled under his breath.  There wasn't that many, but that didn't mean there couldn't be more hiding in the wings.  “Alright, ya'll.  Grab your 'oh shit' handles and hold on.”  America shifted the car into drive, and sped off down the road; tires screeching along the turns as more obstacles raced into the open area in pursuit.

There were still discarded cars here, but the roads were more or less clear.  In fact, everything seemed to be arranged in sort of an organized chaos.  Or, at least as organized and they could be in the panic of the apocalypse.  These Japanese really knew how to do things right.

All along the road, zombies chased them down, some slamming into the side of the car, while others couldn't quite catch but still tried either way.  Bless their little undead hearts.

At one point, just for the hell of it, Russia swung his door open and slammed it into one of the stragglers that was already preoccupied with something else; inciting laughter from his driving compatriot.  England scolded him, but no one seemed to care.  Unfortunately, their little trek was cut short.  America rounded a corner, but had to slam on the breaks.  Broken building parts and glass stretched across the road, blocking their path.  There was even a large crack emerging from under the debris.  What the hell happened here?  Was Japan hit with an earthquake during all this crap?

“Hold on.”  America slammed the car into reverse and turned around to look behind him.  The car rolled a bit, but was not moving nearly as much as it should have been.  “What the hell?”

“What happened?”  France gasped, eyes flickering around at the barrage of zombies closing in on them.  There wasn't nearly as much as they had ran into before, but there was enough to be terrified.

It took America a second to asses the situation.  “Fuck.”  The engine had cut off with him having to hit the brakes so hard.  His heart thundering in his chest, he shifted the car into park, reached down, and started fiddling with the wires again.

“Alfred, hurry!”  Canada cried, when one of them slammed into his window.  He shifted Sealand closer to the center, not caring that the micro-nation was preparing to bash in some skulls.  They all shrank towards the center, not being in a very defensible position.  The glass of the windows cracking.

America tapped the wires together, cursing them under his breath.  He could hear the engine wanting to start, but it just wouldn't turn over.  Maybe this car wasn't going to get them as far as he thought, but at least they should be able to get out of here.  Finally, the engine started.  America quickly shifted into reverse, and sped off backwards.  The zombies lining the car fell off, to the ground.  A couple still tried to hold on, but only one was clinging to the front.

America raced off down an alleyway, soon emerging onto another road.  For once thankful these Japanese cars were so small. Once on the other side, he could see the road was blocked here as well.  Shifting back into drive, the car sped off, back towards the docks to find another way around.  The zombie, hanging on the front, was finally dislodged and provided a momentary speed bump.

 Leaving the carnivores behind, the entire car breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  Before he even thought about it, England patted America on the shoulder.  He couldn't say anything, because his heart wouldn't stop interrupting him, but the notion was there.

There were still a few, back at the docks, but most had been left in the dust.  It took some finagling, but America managed to find a path that wasn't blocked.  “So.”  Canada sighed, still clinging to Sealand.  “How far is this station?”

“Hopefully not too far.”

“Then what?”  France inserted.  “Do we just walk along the tracks?  There's no way the trains are still running.”

“Guess we will have to see.”  Russia responded, watching the sidelines for any more signs of movements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it. It's always something, but DEAR GOD THEY'RE FINALLY IN JAPAN. :faint: Just wanted to stop off and translate. Hors de combat is a French term, but it was one of those random ones that the American military adopted. It just means, out of the fight, wounded, ect. Iggy has owchies and is goin stir crazy. Maybe that's where Alfred gets it from. Also, (flashing back to the very beginning) The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different result. I say that sometimes to get people to stop doing something.
> 
> On a side note, if anyone actually knows a bit more about Japan's layout, (Or any other country they visit, for that matter) and transportation systems, it'd help me out. Some things you just can't google, and I'm a poor college kid who has regrettably never been out of the western hemisphere. I did find what appeared to be a train schedule that looked like it connected the two islands. Even if not, I'm gonna say train, for sake of plot. I may change it when we finally get to Japan in my Asian geography class. It's already taught me some very interesting things about China.


	32. Chapter 32

Finland was perched on the front steps of the small farmhouse, letting his mind wander off in thought. He had long since lost track of how long they had even been there. The days only melded together, the longer they waited, and it was beginning to mess with his head. Sweden had busied himself with building up a perimeter. A handmade electric fence set up along the outskirts of the little farmland. He had it hooked up to an old generator they found on a supply run into the nearby town. At the moment, it was running on fuel, but Sweden was hoping to rig up a more permanent solution. Something about a small windmill to keep it running far after the fuel had gone. It might also be useful to keep the equipment, in the house, operational. Most of their appliances were electric, as well as certain medical supplies they had acquired. Some of the citizens had turned a nearby school into a safe house, complete with a hospital wing.

Unfortunately, it wasn't safe for long. Zombies quickly overtook their location, and the survivors were forced to flee, leaving most of their supplies behind. Fortunately for them. If only the sudden loss of so many lives hadn't taken its toll on Ukraine. She became feverish, around that time, experiencing sharp pain in her legs. They tried to get her to lay down, but Ukraine was far too stubborn to sit still. She insisted on not being some damsel in distress, and kept trying to keep herself busy. Right now, she was probably outside tending to her struggling crops.

Despite the slow decline of their population, Denmark was insistent that they would be alright. After all, if the horrors of war and famine hadn't destroyed them yet, then they should be able to handle a few undead. There was, of course, speculation on whether they should head to Japan, but it was voted too hazardous. They'd fought hard to secure this plot of land, and weren't going to let it go down easily.

Within the perimeter of the fence, Denmark had been setting traps. It started as small as trip lines, or snares, and slowly got more and more elaborate. To the point where he had set up stacks of farming implements, and sharpened sticks to catch any that managed to make it past the fence. Not that many did, but it was still a consideration. Denmark's traps didn't necessarily kill the zombies, but it at least stopped them from getting anywhere close to their current home.

"Hey, Tino."

Speak of the devil. Finland glanced up to see Denmark leaning right over-top of his head. "What're you doing out here?"

"Just thinking." Finland sighed, dropping his chin into his hands. His eyes shifting out over the farm. "Wondering if there's anything useful I can do." Course that wasn't completely what he was thinking about, but what good would it do to let him know.

"Well, that's good." Denmark stated, beaming. He planted a hand on Finland's head and used him to vault off the porch. "You can help me out."

Finland rubbed the spot on his head, and glanced up to see Denmark sling a bat against his shoulder. It's a wooden bat that had several large nails driven in a spiral pattern around the end. Wrapped tight to keep the wood from splitting, when he hammered them in. "What do you want?"

"I was gonna walk the perimeter, then into town for a supply run." Denmark beamed, rocking on the balls of his feet. "I could use a hand."

Finland sighed. "I don't know. I don't really like messing with these things."

"Come on. I won't make you touch any corpses." Denmark grabbed Finland by the arm, and hoisted him up. "I just want some company."

Finland decided to relent. It really wasn't worth his effort to fight hurricane Deny.

xXx

They switched the electricity off, at the gate, which lead out to the main road, and started in a slow circle around the perimeter. There was very light chatter, but not much, so they wouldn't alert any surrounding zombies. At least that's what Finland was trying to convince Denmark of. Denmark seemed to have a rather twisted love of dealing with these things. It was like a game to him. A lot of times he would just sit inside the fence coercing the zombies to attack the electrified fence. He would enjoy watching their bodies sizzle, and pop against the current. Often cheering when their heads would explode. They didn't get through very often, and if so, the traps would have definitely caught them. However Denmark liked to take it upon himself to take care of them. It was a tad worrisome, but, then again, at least he was finding a way to amuse himself. Knowing Denmark, he was likely to go stir-crazy without any form of entertainment. His bat swung playfully, in his hand, not seeming at all nervous about catching his leg on the nails. Very eager to play with his toy, in case some were caught on the fence.

As fore mentioned, there wasn't much danger of them getting through the fence, but if the corpses hung onto the wire for too long it could short out part, if not all, of it out. Also, by the off chance they had made it through, they needed to clean Denmark's traps, and dispose of the bodies.

Fortunately, none, within sight, had made it through. Which was good. Finland really didn't want to clean off a trap. He could deal with them, if he had to, but dead bodies were not his forte.

"There's one." Denmark ran up ahead, towards a zombie hanging onto the fence. He was slumped backwards, hands gripped around the wire. Denmark plucked a small hatchet from his hip, and sliced one of the hands off at the wrist.

Finland had to turn away, not liking to even see the blood splattering on Denmark's knuckles. He was never this squeamish before. Why did it bother him this way? Denmark gave no thought to it, as he chopped the other hand off, kicking the body away, through the wire. Finland would have liked to get rid of it. Burn it or something, but Sweden requested they leave it there. They may rot and start to stink up the place, but there always seemed to be less zombies around the areas they were left. They only seemed interested in living things, so maybe the smell hid that there was anyone alive here. There were a couple others laying around the fence as well, from past rounds.

Denmark settled the tip of the hatchet blade under the clinging fingers, proceeding to pry them off. He grinned, turning back to Finland. "See, no problem."

Finland sighed, wistfully. As hard as he tried, he couldn't break his melancholy mood. At least his friend was having fun. "Come on, mopey." Denmark wiped his hands off on his pants, and threw an arm around his compatriot. "We're about halfway done." Finland shied away from the touch, not wanting to get the blood on his clothes as well. "You really need to be more careful with things like that."

"It's fine. I'm careful enough." He started to lead him along the fence again. "What I'm mainly concerned about is why you've been so down lately."

Finland diverted his gaze. "We just haven't heard anything from the others, in a long time. I'm just worried for them, is all."

"It won't do you any good to do so. You should just put them out of your mind." Denmark said, rather offhandedly, barely noticing the fall in Finland's demeanor. "Easy for you to say." He mumbled lightly.

"Hey, there's another one." Denmark made his way over, but Finland didn't like the sight of this. The zombie had knocked over one of the posts, holding up the fence, and was caught in one of the tee-pee traps Denmark had set up. It was rather extraordinary that there was only one that used this opportunity to make it through. There was a small bit of fear that others had sneaked into their barrier, but there was no way any of them could be smart enough to avoid Denmark's traps. At least he hoped they weren't.

The zombie was skewered clear through its chest, with a long sharpened stick.

"Be careful." Finland warned.

"Way ahead of you." Denmark crept up closer, wringing his hand around the hilt of the bat. He reached it out, and jabbed his victim sharply. He didn't like that. The zombie growled at him, trying to twist around to grab Denmark, but he stepped out of its reach. "Alright, you." He positioned himself to swing, lodging the nails deep into its skull. However, when he went to pull it back out, it appeared to be stuck. It did get stuck often. Of course, he could use this to his advantage. "Stand back, Finny."

Finland took a few steps back as Denmark moved so that he could use the lodged bat to lift it from the spire. It took a great deal of strain, but it finally slid off the end and flopped upon the ground. He planted a foot on the zombie's back, and yanked the bat out. "Ha, there." He grabbed the zombie's arms and started dragging him towards the fence. "Watch out." Denmark gave a great heave, and flung the zombie over the fence. How he could stand the feel of that cold dead skin, Finland would never know.

"You don't think anymore could have gotten in, do you?"

"I doubt it." Denmark wiped his hands off on his pants. Apparently, a small part of him didn't like that feeling. "We can barely weave through here, I doubt they can figure it out."

"I suppose. I just don't like this fence being down."

"Well, let's fix it." Denmark stepped between the wires, and on to the other side. "Give me a hand, will ya?"

"But how will you get back over?"

"I'll just walk along the outside. It'll be fine." Denmark waved a dismissive hand to him, and bent over to grab the post. Finland made his way over to help. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"It's fine, just help me."

Finland relented, and helped pull the post upright, allowing Denmark to pound it back into place with his bat. "There, see." He beamed, slinging the bat back onto his shoulder, as they started off again.

Finland shook his head. "You're hopeless."

"If I was completely devoid of hope, then I'd be dead."

Finland's heart flipped, upon hearing that, but knew his friend never thought too much about what he was saying, and tried to play it off. "Not necessarily. You can just be lucky."

"Lucky, and full of hope." Denmark stated, waving a finger at him. "I'm just amazing, that way."

Finland couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yes, I suppose you are."

"And don't you forget it." He laughed, swinging the bat around again.

Denmark had to sling one more from hanging off of the wire, before they made it back to the main gate.

"Ok, now get in here, before something shows up." Finland called, opening the gate.

"Alright, already." Denmark chuckled, stepping in. "There's practically nothing around for miles. Other than the occasional strays, and I can handle them no problem." He swung the bat in a golf-like motion, letting the momentum carry him forward a few steps."

"I'm sure you can, but let's not test your amazing luck, shall we." Finland smirked at him, closing the gate, and switched the generator back on. There was a bright spark, from the switch, and the wired fence burst to life. A soft hum started to fill the air around them. Instantly, Finland relaxed. He trusted Sweden's inventions to keep them safe, and always hated when they had to cut the power.

"Here." Finland turned around to see Denmark toss another one of his inventions at him. It was a lead pipe with a piece of thick sharp shrapnel welded onto it, where it faced both ways. It may have been sturdier than his bat, but the wielder also needed to be more precise. Which may have been part of why Denmark didn't use it. Finland did have a handgun attached to his hip, but it was always good to have a backup. That being said, he still didn't want to go.

"Come on, Tino." Denmark laughed, nudging him towards the gate. "We cleared any undead out a long time ago. The most we might find is a couple stragglers."

Finland sighed, relenting, and followed him on out, continuing down the long stretch of road. He was right of course. Denmark had set up a wider perimeter of his traps, and all the others had been picked off on their other runs. The only sign of any dead still being around was when Denmark and Sweden made a run into town, a couple weeks back. They had run into a large swarm through a weak spot, in a fence. Most likely weathered, and beaten against so much that it finally broke. The two nations managed to get the bulk of the herd to follow them into an abandoned warehouse and sealed them in. They did accidentally lock themselves in too, but, of course, they were a lot smarter and made it out through a broken skylight. Unfortunately Sweden had slipped and tore a muscle in his left arm, trying to keep from falling from the slick roof. Since then, he had taken up the brunt of guard duty.

This seemed to be a story that Denmark found thrilling and adventurous. He was beaming as he re-told the tale to them. Finland was trying to tune him out as he attempted to mend Sweden's arm. They didn't have the proper equipment to fix it, so Sweden hasn't gotten full use of his arm back, and it still hurt. But at least it was functional enough to operate his sniper rifle.

"Y'know, I hope Lukas and Emil are doing alright." Denmark let out another off-handed comment, swinging the bat around again.

Finland's mood drooped again. Puffin had been coming by at least once a week to let them keep in contact with Norway and Iceland. However, the little bird hadn't been there at all for a week and a half, and Denmark was definitely getting disheartened. They all were, of course, but he was always the one to keep a weathered eye on the horizon for any airborne monochromatic specs.

"I'm sure they're alright." Finland stated mutely, eyes watching the small puffs of dirt pop up around his feet. "Probably just busy."

Denmark glanced over at his friend. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Yea, I'm sure they're fine. Resilient lot they are."

The shy smile, on Finland's lips, broadened. "Of course. Everything's going to be ok."

"Of course it will." Denmark beamed, throwing an arm around his shoulder. He pulled him in closer, grinning. The opposite hand still swinging the bat in the air. "Ya gotta stay positive, Tino. Can't let yourself get-"

Finland wasn't gonna hear what he shouldn't do, because they were both startled by a loud ping, following a woosh. Denmark dragged Finland into the tall grass, drawing his handgun. "What was that?"

"I think someone's shooting at us."

"Did you see where it came from?"

Finland scanned the area. It sounded like the bullet hit something metal, and whoever it was didn't seem to be shooting anymore. The only source of metal was a chain link fence, and a tilted stop sign. He didn't think it was tilted before. Finland started to ease out to take a look. There was a bullet hole right between the o in "стоп".

"What are you doing?"

"Something's strange." Finland stepped out towards the middle of the road.

"Do you want to get shot?"

"Of course not." Finland shook his head, eyes slowly scanning. "That shot was far too precise. If they wanted us dead, then one of us would-" He gasped, spinning around at the sound of another shot. A puff of dust was still drifting up from where it had hit.

"Hey, be careful!" Denmark moved to come out again. His thumb settled on the hammer of his handgun, creeping out behind Finland.

Finland reached a hand back against his arm. "Hold on." He spoke quietly, then something flashed in his peripheral. His eyes followed the flash until he found the source. "Over there." He pointed back the way they'd come, down the road. "I think it's Berwald."

"What?" Denmark narrowed his eyes to try and make out what was going on. Luckily, the sun was setting somewhere behind them, allowing them to make out a series of flashes. Sweden was flickering what must have been his flashlight, in Morse code, to tell them to come back.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should head back."

Denmark scoffed, kicking out a leg to spin around. "It can wait. We need to get down there and back, before it gets dark." He started walking along, down the road again.

"I don't know. It could be important."

Denmark gave a short spin, again, using his leg for momentum. "Well, maybe I don't care. He shot at me, so he can wait." He started off again, and was stopped short, by another shot hitting in front of him. He spun around and growled. "STOP THAT!"

Finland was watching the light flicker again. "He doesn't want us to go into town."

"Well, we need to."

"Hold on." Finland ran back to grab his arm. "It must be important."

Denmark groaned, rolling his eyes. For once, he actually kept his mouth shut, and thought for a few seconds. "So, you think we should head back?"

"I do. He wouldn't stop us if it wasn't important."

"Ok, fine." Denmark started back towards the house, propping the bat on his shoulder. "Let's see what hubby wants."

xXx

"So, what was so important that you had to shoot at us?" Denmark called, making his way to the peak of the steep roof, where Sweden had taken up his post.

"I did not think I could stop you in time any other way."

Finland climbed out of the second floor window, onto the roof. "Why did you need to stop us?"

"That?" Sweden pointed out over past the road. From the roof, there was a clear view of the small town that they were previously heading towards. The tops of the small building were barely visible through what appeared to be a thick fog. Which wouldn't have been so alarming, except that it was a sickly yellow-green tint. It wasn't even a steady thickness. Some areas were saturated more than others, where small patches didn't seem to hold any coverage at all.

Denmark took a step closer, brows knitted in confusion on the town. "What is that?"

"Is it dangerous?"

Sweden shook his head slowly, his long fingers flexing nervously around the barrel of his sniper rifle. "Hard to say. I just didn't like the looks of it."

Finland turned to try and take in the rest of their surroundings. There was stretch of flat planes, outside of their electrified fence, then wooded area as far out as he could see. There appeared to be more patches of the strange fog escaping the canopy of trees. "This doesn't make any sense. Where did it come from?"

"It's too erratic." Denmark stated, following his gaze. "There has to be something causing this."

Finland wrung his hands, taking a step back. "You don't think it'll reach the farmhouse, do you?" He jumped, when Sweden's hand fell onto his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Let us hope not."

Denmark was staring very intently at the mysterious fog. He plopped down on the landing, on the roof, swinging the sniper rifle towards him, on the pivot on the stand. "I'll take over the shift."

Sweden and Finland both glanced over at him, uncertain. Since when did Denmark start volunteering for guard duty? "You sure?" Finland asked skeptically.

"Yea, sure." Denmark waved a dismissive hand at them. "It's about time I took watch. You two go relax."

Sweden and Finland exchanged an unsure glance. Sweden shrugged, and started inside. Finland started to follow. "O-k? Let us know if you see anything else. I'll bring dinner up."

"That'd be cool. Tak." Denmark waved a hand, still not looking at him.

Finland still hesitated, but climbed in through the window.

Denmark sighed, drawing his knees up to his chin, hugging them close. He didn't know what this weird fog was, but as long as it was there they were trapped in the farm. As secure as their little farm had become, they always knew there would be a point when they would have to flee. Plus, Denmark had been plotting ways to head out and try to find Norway and Iceland. Now, any plans of escape were completely thrown out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, check it out. These guys are still alive. 
> 
> I would also like to apologize if my writing is getting a bit more stagnated. I promise it'll get more interesting and plotty soon. I'm just in that small rut where I don't want to rush things, and need to get a certain number of information out there. I am going back to America's group next chapter, and then I'm getting back to Germany and them. I promise. Then, hopefully, when I'm done with there, everyone will FINALLY be together. 
> 
> Oh yea, "Tak"- Danish for Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: After much deliberation, i was finally talked into posting my shitty little zombie, story. This somehow stemmed from me watching a season finale episode of Deadliest Warrior (Zombies vs. Vampires. typically, i don't like the fights at the end, but this one was fun) so, instead of wanting to see the overly abused Vampire mythology taking out the countries, i decided to go for the other cliche threat and infect them all BWAHAHA! or maybe not, I don't really know yet, I'm kinda making this up as i go along. also, hey i suck at research, so there will be some inaccuracies (and most likely rewrites to indicate better a lot of the weapons, because my memory sucks, and i don't know what most of them are called WOO) so, without further rambling with idiotic bullshit, enjoy my shitty little story.
> 
> PS: I'm a sucker, so this is gonna be very AmericaxCanada centric, but i'm pretty sure there's not going to be any slash in here... unless i feel like it. Cause, as the writer, i have that kind of power... but most likely i won't. Mainly because I'm getting bored with it. That's my right as an American. FUCK YEA!
> 
> reedited: 07-15- 2012 (I'm mainly sticking that in, so that when you see my comments about rewrites later, you won't necessarily think you missed them) So, to start this off, with the incentive that my Germany was reading these, and would rip me apart, I decided to go back and edit my plotholes, and other such nonsense. Then I reread this chapter and my mind screamed "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PIECE OF SHITE!" Damn, America was far too nonchalant, it was almost comical. No wonder my Canadia was laughing when America had to kill the little children. I was beginning to wonder why anyone still wanted to read after this introduction into madness, so yea... I fixed. it seems better, but I'm highly paranoid now, cause I thought it was good before.
> 
> Also, just for future reference, me and most of my friends have adopted roles of the different nations, so if they seem a bit ooc, then it's mainly because I'm considering what we would do in this situation.


End file.
